


Love, the thing you grow into

by miss_Carrot



Category: The House in the Cerulean Sea - T. J. Klune
Genre: Adopted Children, Awkward Flirting, Body Image, Boundaries, Developing Relationship, Established Relationship, Father Figures, Idiots in Love, M/M, Parent-Child Relationship, Past Relationship(s), Self-Esteem Issues, Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-17
Updated: 2020-11-10
Packaged: 2021-03-09 03:47:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 25,706
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27068122
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/miss_Carrot/pseuds/miss_Carrot
Summary: 'Do you have a heart attack?' Phee asked from somewhere under his elbow. He startled so hard that he almost fell off  the tree stump.'No, erm, of course not,' eyeing her as he straightened his sweater. 'What makes you say so?''You have a shallow breath and hold your belly like you're in pain,' she replied matter-of-factly. She looked tired, and there was a frown over her face which Linus didn't like. 'Just like Lucy said in his last book report.'Because of course Lucy, dear but morbid child that he was, picked for his reading of the month a book about cardiac problems after he learned about Linus' high blood pressure. As was to be expected, the symptoms, complications, and death cases were the focus points in his rather lengthy presentation._A story of three months between Linus' return to the island and his move to the Marsyas House, in which he learns that there are more ways to express his feelings than just arts and crafts projects.
Relationships: Linus Baker/Arthur Parnassus
Comments: 56
Kudos: 110





	1. October

**Author's Note:**

> This book brought me a lot of joy in a difficult time - so of course I had to start poking at it and add a tiny bit of drama. But no worries: it's mostly about food, love, healing, and doing crafts together.
> 
> That being said, this wotk is also about self-esteem issues largery connected to the body image, talking about bad relationships in the past, discussion around expectations, boundaries, and experiences when it comes to relationships and sex, and a few scenes which - while not explicit - aren't that innocent either. If any of these topics may be problematic for you, please proceed with caution.
> 
> Take care of yourselves, and find joy wherever you can.

**October**

Linus was in the middle of his morning dressing routine - slacks and one sock on, to be precise - when he heard a sharp knock on the door.

'Wait, I'm not -' he protested, wrapping his pajama shirt protectively around himself. 'Decent,' he finished, giving Zoe the stink eye as she barged in. 'What happened?'

'No, nothing bad,' she said, shooting him an amused smile as he tugged the pyjama closer. 'I just need a favour'.

'Of course,' he said immediately, straightening up. 

In the last couple of days, since he got back on the island, he became more and more nervous, waiting for this to happen. Everyone forgave him so quickly, so easily that it felt undeserved - and while Linus didn't doubt their sincerity, not even for a second, he waited for an opportunity to make up somehow.

'I'd need you to keep an eye on Phee today.' Zoe's smile grew wider and a little wicked. 'You know, for a change. We wouldn't like the most enticing sights of Marsyas Island to get boring too quickly, would we now.'

Linus squirmed under her laugh, his face colouring up to the tips of his ears. It wasn't like that, but he couldn't deny that Arthur's presence proved to be extremely distracting, now that he felt allowed to bask in it.

'Of course,' he repeated, trying and failing to regain some dignity. 'I'll be happy to, but why-'

'Oh, I'm just going to town, you know, some errands, shopping...' she trailed away and the smile on her face went softer. 'It may take a while, I'll probably be back just in time to start dinner. And since they're building that shelter today, I just want to make sure that she has someone nearby in case she feels overwhelmed.'

'Does it happen often?' Linus leaned forward, forgetting about the pajamas. 'Is there anything I should know or do?'

'No, no, it's just - when you're young and just learning to listen to the forest, the mixture of whispers of the trees and yells of a bunch of adventurers can become too much. Usually I'm here to ground her, but she needs to start depending on herself and others for that.'

'I see,' he said pensively. It sounded familiar; the noise, commotion and excitement of crowds always exhausted him too. 'I'll do my best.'

'Do your average,' Zoe said, shaking her head with a smile. She seemed to be in an exceptionally good mood today. 'Phee doesn't need to be held and reassured every fifteen seconds. And dress sensibly, it's quite chill today,' she added. She opened the door and a gust of wind hit Linus' bare foot and exposed torso, as if to confirm her words. 'I'm sure that this disheveled look can work on some, but it's not...'

Linus let out a loud groan, throwing his hands in the air, but Zoe just snickered as she disappeared behind the door. 

He dressed quickly and as sensibly as he could - maybe too sensibly, if he was honest with himself. There was nothing remotely interesting in his dark brown slacks, medium brown sweater, and white shirt he pulled underneath. He tugged at one of his shirt tails, trying to make it look more disheveled, but it looked just plain stupid. With a sigh he straightened it back and went for breakfast, trying to focus on today's schedule and his task of minding Phee. It was his chance to start earning the forgiveness back; he couldn't waste it thinking of his clothes instead.

***

It was hard not to think about clothes though, when Arthur arrived ready for adventuring in a deep navy pullover and a burnt orange neckerchief tied haphazardly around his neck. He made it look distinguished and fun at the same time, as if he was playing at being serious - or being serious about playing. Somewhere between shepherding children into a semblance of a line, distributing the equipment, and adjusting Chauncey's kerchief that kept sliding down his body, Arthur managed to give him a blue kerchief of his own, along with a wink and a smile that made Linus' knees go weak. He looked young and playful, like he was going on a real adventure. 

And maybe he was. Somehow Linus didn't think that Arthur had many opportunities to build forest shelters as a kid.

The clearing that they had picked for the shelter was beautiful: a quiet nook between the trees, sheltered from the wind, but with enough space to fit a sturdy structure. Under Phee's stern look Arthur instructed everyone to thread carefully and only gather branches and boughs that have already fallen, and tread lightly among the young bushes. Forming a group with Sal, Theodore and Chauncey, Linus lead them through the bushes to collect the branches. He learned - without much surprise - that the idea of building a shelter and forming a scouting team came from Lucy. Apparently, having read an adventure book featuring both of these he decided that the adventurers from Marsyas Island need both a safe haven and colorful kerchiefs. 

Collecting branches wasn't an easy task: they kept sticking to Chauncey and falling from Theodore's claws, and before long Linus was out of breath. Luckily, Sal kept his cool and while the three of them were struggling to collect small branches, he dragged from the thicket a bough big enough to make up for their poor results. Together they moved it to the clearing, manoeuvring around the young bushes. Theodore and Chauncey, undeterred by their lack of success, went back to collect some more twigs; Linus knew that he should go after them, but dragging the bough along left him exhausted. He sat heavily on a tree stump, trying to calm his breath and the thumping of his heartbeat, and watched the outline of the shelter slowly emerge from the chaos.

'Linus, come help!' Talia urged, digging a hole with her favorite shovel. 'Unless you want me to push you into one of these holes...'

'And mask the grave with twigs and needles so it stays forgotten forever!' Lucy exclaimed happily, shuffling said twigs with his foot.

'I feel a bit tired,' he muttered, looking away. He was supposed to make amends, and not just disappoint everyone. 'I'd rather just watch you build this fantastic shelter of yours, all right?'

'But...!'

'Let's not push others into activities they don't feel like doing,' Arthur interrupted, putting the bough away and walking over to Linus. 'Are you all right, my dear?'

'Yes, of course, I'm just a bit - ah, tired,' he said, and patted himself on the stomach. 'I carry a bit extra weight, apart from the branches.'

'If you're sure.' Arthur squeezed his shoulder and went back to the construction site, shooting him one more glance. 

Linus was left to his observation after that; he followed Phee with his eyes for a while, but she seemed all right to him, bossing everyone around. His gaze drifted then, inevitably, to Arthur, who was in his element. The green walls emerged from under his hands as if he'd been a forest sprite himself; his fingers weaved the branches together, sure and deft and strong. These fingers grasped his shoulder just a moment ago, he realised, and could easily hold him in place or lift him up, had Arthur so wished. 

This thought made Linus' mind get blurry with a sudden rush of heat. He closed his eyes and saw these hands moving just as surely along his body, tugging at the hem of his sweater - up, up - opening his shirt at the throat and pushing it down his shoulders, and - 

And this is where his imagination stuttered to a halt. Even with the heat thrumming underneath his skin it was hard to take the thought any further than that. It was not like you had to be naked to _do the do_ , as Linus knew from personal experience. There was no reason you couldn't stay at least partially covered when...

'Do you have a heart attack?' Phee asked from somewhere under his elbow. He startled so hard that he almost fell off the tree stump.

'No, erm, of course not,' eyeing her as he straightened his sweater. 'What makes you say so?'

'You have a shallow breath and hold your belly like you're in pain,' she replied matter-of-factly. She looked tired, and there was a frown over her face which Linus didn't like. 'Just like Lucy said in his last book report.'

Because of course Lucy, dear but morbid child that he was, picked for his reading of the month a book about cardiac problems after he learned about Linus' high blood pressure. As was to be expected, the symptoms, complications, and death cases were the focus points in his rather lengthy presentation. 

'I promise you I'm fine,' he said, forcing himself to straighten up and smile at her. 'Why aren't you building the shelter? Too easy for you?'

Phee tossed her fiery hair with a smirk and then winced.

'Yeah, I'm letting them have their fun,' she said, 'but they're making so much noise that it's impossible to listen to the branches. They don't even listen to themselves. The shelter is going to fall apart as soon as the rain falls.'

'That would be a pity to see all this hard work go to waste,' Linus said, watching Theodore frantically trying to hold the top branches together so that Arthur can bind them with a piece of twine. Even from this distance he could see that there were pine needles in Arthur's hair and smudges of dirt on his face and fingers. He inhaled, the scent of wet bark and crushed needles filling his nose.

'I am going to fix it, of course,' Phee said, sitting down on the ground and leaning back against the tree stump. Dark green moss with wispy white flowers started to cover the bark as soon as she touched it. 'But not just yet. I'll just - listen for now.'

They sat quietly, letting the voices of the excited adventurers wash over them. Slowly the frown on Phee's face faded and she seemed content to watch the shelter take a somewhat misshapen shape among the cacophony of shouts, commands, and laughter. Just from listening to it Linus' heart seemed full to the point of bursting; he could only imagine how overwhelming moments like these must feel for Phee.

'If it's ever too much,' he said, 'I mean -'

'It's never too much,' Phee interrupted, glaring at him, but then she looked away. 'But almost, sometimes, when Zoe isn't here.'

'Then we can watch from the sidelines together, you and I, if you want. Okay?'

'Yeah, okay,' she said gruffly, but the soft brush of moss against his fingers betrayed a different emotion.

'Then it's a deal.' 

The top of the shelter wall tumbled down with a loud crash. With a long-suffering sigh Phee stood up and went towards the ruins, glancing at Linus over her shoulder. He gave her a thumbs-up and a proud smile.

*

'So you weren't a boy scout, I take it?' Arthur asked with a small smile as they walked back towards the house. Even with Phee's help the shelter was far from ready and it would start raining soon.

‘Quite the contrary,’ Linus mock-scoffed and leaned to pick a needle from behind Arthur's ear, and then another one. ‘I'll have you know, Mr Parnassus, that I was a proud holder of the rarest scout badges: Eagle-Eye, Healer's Helper, and even the Special Badge of Merit.’

‘Special Badge, you say?’

‘Yeah, it was for memorizing the Scout's Code and the Supreme Scout's Code.’ He shrugged, remembering the long hours spent on reading and re-reading the books. He'd hoped it would make him a part of the team, a good scout, but it hadn't endeared his teammates to him in any way. ‘ It's far from useful, but at least I can tell you right now that wearing a neckerchief like you do is _completely_ against regulations.’

‘Is it now.’ Arthur's voice was neutral, but the look he shot Linus was anything but. ‘Would you like to fix it for me?’

‘I, of course, erm - that is, I’ Linus managed, his throat suddenly dry. ‘I - I think that it does look rather fetching on you. Regardless - that is, regardless of the regulations.’

‘Oh you dear, charming man!’ Laughing quietly, Arthur tugged him close and kissed, butterfly light, on his temple and brow and eyelids. ‘Regardless of the regulations! Now that is a compliment if I've ever heard one!’

‘Ugh, stop canoodling in the back and move, I'm starving!’ Lucy yelled from the front of the march, loud enough to scare a couple of crows from the nearby tree. Theodore exclaimed after them and flapped his wings from his perch on Sal's shoulder.

Linus leaned away, his neck and face hot, but Arthur grasped his arm and tugged him close.

‘Lead the way then, Commander Lucy!’ he said, sliding his arm across Linus' arm and lacing their fingers together. 

It felt deliberate, slower that it should be, as if to prove something - but what and to whom, Linus wasn't sure. But the warmth that radiated all over him - and the kiss on the back of his hand that Arthur gave him when they reached the house - made him brave enough that he reached and loosened Arthur's neckerchief. He straightened the edges and made a simple square knot, focusing on the sudden movement of Arthur's throat, the sharp inhale and the tight swallow after that.

‘There,’ he muttered, looking up. He wanted to say more, something sassy about regulations and Scouting Code, but the look in Arthur's eyes stopped any words from even forming.

‘Thank you, my dear Linus,’ Arthur said, low and quiet. His gaze was dark and so intense that Linus felt as if he could start smouldering and glowing under it any second now. ‘Listen, I -’ he whispered, but then there was a crash and commotion, and urgent yelling somewhere behind them. With a sigh Arthur closed his eyes and then bit his lip; it filled Linus with relief and something else that he wouldn't name. ‘I'll talk to you later, my dear,’ Arthur said and turned to the children.

Linus knew he should check on them too. Instead, he all but fled to the guest house and leaned back against the door as soon as he closed them. His heart was pounding, his head was spinning, and his entire body was tingling in a way that it had never done before. _I'll talk to you later_ , Arthur said, but Linus didn't need his finely honed observation skills to see the layers of meaning underneath, and the want in Arthur's eyes.

At this, his knees went soft and he slid down the door, curling against it. He wasn't an idiot; it was there, strong and fierce and exquisite like Arthur himself, and Linus yearned for it, oh he did, but...

He pushed himself up with a grunt and went to the bathroom; in the yellow light his face and neck were pale as usual, and the lines around his eyes even more pronounced. Taking a step back, he knocked down a stack of fresh towels; making a mental note to thank Chauncey for them at the dinner, he steeled himself and looked into the mirror again. All he knew about was there: the neat but thinning hair, the spare tire around his waist, the overall impression of pudgy mediocrity. With his throat closed tight, he took off his sweater and unbuttoned his shirt, looking at the familiar rest. The dark, sparse hair across his chest and belly, the faded scar after an appendectomy which was now hidden under his stomach, the undefined softness of his chest. If he'd went further, there would be the thighs which were just a bit too close too feel comfortable, the round scar on his knee from his scouting days, a dick that was in a working order, and feet with tufts of dark hair on the toes. 

Totally, painfully unremarkable. There was no way in the world that Arthur wanted _that_.

But he did want something and there was plenty Linus could give him without risking that the fire in Arthur's gaze would go out. He could make Arthur feel loved and cherished and not expose himself in the process; it was the least he could do to make up for for leaving him and the children as he did. It felt like a good action plan, blurry as it was, but he felt much more ready to face the dinner now.

*

The dinner was a peculiar affair - which was saying something here on the Marsyas Island. The food was tasty, but plain and seemed to be put together in a rush. Zoe's errands must have taken longer than expected; she wasn't paying attention to the discussion around the table, nodding mechanically, but mostly smiling to herself and looking away. Arthur quizzed the children about today's learns, but kept looking at Linus over the table. He changed for dinner and brushed the needles from his hair, but the neckerchief stayed just as Linus had put it. Phee dispensed her knowledge about branches and trees, yelling over everyone with untypical fervor, and Chauncey kept picking the pieces of bark from his tentacles.

And yet, everything that Linus could think of, was Arthur's dark gaze as he said, _I'll talk to you later_. He wasn't sure whether he felt more excited or terrified by the prospect; all he could feel was his throat and stomach twisted tight and trembling.

It was impossible to say if the dinner went too quickly or dragged too slow; as they ate, and cleaned up, and got the children ready to bed, Linus wanted both to finish all this already and continue forever. It was decided for him though, as he saw Chauncey sitting in the puddle of saltwater in his room, still trying to get rid of the twigs and bark that stuck stubbornly to his tentacles and his middle.

‘Here, let me help,’ Linus offered to Chauncey's visible relief. He knelt down in the puddle, and his knees popped in the most unpleasant way. ‘I used to get splinters all the time when I was a scout,’ he said, trying to ignore the tension in his knees. ‘So I got quite adept at removing them. Does it hurt you?’ he asked, as he removed a bit of bark from underneath of the tentacle.

‘No, it's just - I feel it's _there_ ,’ Chauncey said, and then added in a rush, ‘and probably I shouldn't complain, because it doesn't hurt, and I could get used to that, but it's so _nice_ of you to remove these bits, but it's late, and...’ 

‘Hey, no worries,’ Linus said, looking up with a warm smile. The agitation made Chauncey's face darken and his eye stalks longer. ‘It's okay, you don't have to suffer through something because it's just unpleasant. Show me your other arm... Now there, no more twigs,’ he said, and placed a gentle hand on Chauncey's shoulder. ‘How do you feel?’

‘Good,’ Chauncey said and closed his eyes. The dark shade on his face lightened to his normal bright hue. They stayed like this for a moment and when Linus was about to stand up and wish him good night, Chauncey spoke again, this time in the barest whisper. ‘Linus, could you... could you give me a hug? Just for a moment, if...’

Linus didn't listen to the rest; he gathered Chauncey in his arms and held him close, so close. There was no heartbeat of course, but he could feel a faint drumming all over Chauncey's body. He could also feel the warmth of the whispers against his collarbone, _everyone thinks I'm slimy_ , and _ugly,_ and _monster,_ and _it's so safe_. 

‘I'm here,’ Linus muttered against his forehead. He felt like Chauncey's words clawed his heart open; he could barely breathe but he didn't let go. ‘When you need me, I'm here.’

They stayed like this for some time, until Chauncey calmed and Linus felt strong enough to get up and wish him good night. 

He had no idea how much time passed, but his knees were stiff and trembling, and his heart was aching in ways it hadn't done for decades. He went down carefully, trying to put his thoughts and emotions in a semblance of order, and then he saw Arthur waiting for him in the living room. Arthur, lounging on the worn loveseat with his long legs in front of him, crossed at the ankles; he wore yellow socks dotted in black to his black-and-white wingtips. He was gazing through the window with a small smile that promised wondrous things, and the warm lights of the living room gave his messy hair a golden glow. 

Arthur looked like he did in all the dreams Linus had back in the city - the ones he didn't dare think about in the morning.

‘Arthur,’ he said and went quiet. He didn't know what he wanted to say. 

Arthur turned to him; his eyes went wide and his smile fell immediately. Linus realised how he must look like: his drab clothes covered in bark smudges and saltwater, his legs shaking, and his face drawn and surely paler than usual.

‘My dearest...’ Arthur crossed the living room in a couple of strides and took Linus' hands in his. His fingers felt exactly as strong as Linus expected them, when he was being guided towards the loveseat. ‘Tell me what's wrong.’

Linus swallowed the reflexive _Nothing_ , and looked at his wide hands, safely encircled in Arthur's.

‘I spoke with Chauncey,’ he said eventually, not looking up. ‘He asked to be hugged - he said no one wanted to because they thought he was a slimy monster, and -’ He trailed off as Arthur gathered him into his arms and pulled close. ‘How could they? He's such a darling child!’

‘He is,’ Arthur agreed quietly. 

Linus closed his eyes and let himself be held, listening to Arthur's heartbeat. He wondered how Arthur could have done all this when the children had only started to arrive; he hadn't had anyone to lean on back then. Or he had, but -

Linus freed himself gently from the embrace; he looked Arthur in the eyes but then dropped his gaze to his knees again.

‘You wanted to -’ he trailed off, swallowed and steeled himself. ‘You wanted to talk. Later.’

‘Mhm...’ Arthur pulled him back into his embrace again and kissed the top of his head, his temples, his eyelids. ‘That I did, but it looks to me that we'd be better off just staying here as we are. What do you say to this, my darling Linus?’

‘Yes,’ Linus whispered, swallowing around the relief and the disappointment. 

Suddenly he felt exhausted, and he could only lean back with a sigh. They stayed like this until Linus could feel Arthur's breath even out and his embrace loosen; he stirred and looked at Arthur's peaceful face for a while, and then kissed the corner of his mouth.

‘Arthur,’ he whispered. There was no reaction, so he did it again: the kiss and the whisper. ‘Arthur, wake up.’

Arthur opened his eyes and blinked slowly, owlishly; his dark eyes lit up as he recognized Linus over him.

‘M'darling,’ he mumbled and reached to tug Linus close. ‘C'me here.’

‘You need to go to bed,’ Linus protested, though he wanted very much to stay where he was. ‘You'll get a crick in your neck if you fall asleep like this. Come on, get up.’

With soft grumbling Arthur started to rise, but he seemed incapable of letting Linus go. With his hand on the banister he turned back to Linus, took his fingers and lifted them to his mouth.

‘I'll see you tomorrow,’ he whispered - not a question, more like an expression of wonder.

‘Yes, my dear,’ Linus said, reaching up to smooth away the strand of hair from Arthur's eyes. ‘Yes, you will.’

* * *

The forest shelter became hot topic over the next days. It took a couple more trips to the forest to make the structure stable enough to become the Adventurers' Fortress, but when it finally emerged, they celebrated the grand opening with a picnic. It was a grand affair with a pumpkin pie and spicy tea and pecan cookies; they spent a great time listening to Phee's stories about the forest whispers and Theodore's musings about treasures that they would now surely find and store in the fortress. 

That day turned out to be the end of their summer adventuring though. The same evening winds brought heavy clouds over the Marsyas Island and in the morning the cerulean skies and waves turned stormy grey under the weight of rainfall. Linus spent half of the day on the loveseat, curled under a blanket, reading up the adventuring novels which started the entire shelter affair; he couldn't recall when he had so much fun reading. The other, drier half he dedicated to helping Talia in her garden; luckily Zoe, with her sprite foresight, brought him a pair of wellies and a raincoat. There was a lot to do, Talia explained, to protect the plants from downpours and strong winds that were due to come over the island now. So under her tutelage he bound the plants and covered the exposed roots, and inserted a fair number of support poles for the young shrubs and trees. Talia explained to him the difference between dahlias and chrysanthemums, and why she used pine bark to cover some of the plants but not the other. She even allowed him to use her shears to trim a few shrubs. As the dinnertime came about, Linus' knees and shoulders were quavering, and his head was spinning from all the new knowledge, but he felt deep satisfaction from all his hard work. Talia was pleased too: she even said that he was almost as fun alive and above the ground as he would be dead and six feet under. 

Washing the mud out - it stuck to the fingernail beds and knuckle creases despite all the soap - Linus suddenly got an idea. It was silly, so he said it out loud before he had time to feel embarrassed about it.

‘Say, Talia, you won't need all this grass and leaves we cut down, right?’

‘Well, I am going to compost them, so yeah. Why... Oh, ho ho!’ She cackled, wiping her hands. ‘Don't tell me - you wanted to make a bouquet, didn't you?’

‘Just - forget it,’ he muttered and scrubbed his hands harder, feeling as colour rose in his cheeks. ‘It was stupid.’

‘Yeah, kinda,’ she agreed, and cackled again when he shot her a glare. ‘No, but seriously - a romantic bouquet out of garden waste? This _is_ stupid. Go cut him a couple of asters if you must,’ she added with a sigh. 

He looked up at her, surprised. Talia didn't like to cut her flowers, and no more than an hour ago she told him that asters were one of her favourites, blooming until the snow covered them.

‘I couldn't,’ he said, and smiled at her. ‘But thank you. That was very kind of you.’

‘Damn right it was, but...’

‘Language!’

‘But if you want a romantic bouquet,’ she continued, undeterred, ‘go to the poplar grove. You'll find some beach heather there and some switch grass too; they will make a nice composition, definitely more classy that the shorn twigs.’

It sounded much better that what Linus had originally in mind. He thanked her and was just about to go off to his mission, when he realised that he had no idea what beach heather or switch grass looked like. He said as much to Talia who laughed at him again.

‘Pick the ones you like,’ she said with a shrug. ‘Arthur has no sense of style when it comes to plants anyway. I swear I saw him one time in a crown made from couch grass, can you imagine?’

Linus could - and he very much liked this vision. He all but run towards the poplar grove. There wasn't much blooming there at the first glance, but in the fading light he found a patch of yellow flowers blinking like tiny stars, and the whole meadow of lovely wispy grass in all shades of pink and rust, and silvery twigs full of leaves round like coins. He brought them over to his hut and, taking a thread out of the sewing kit he carried in his suitcase, started to painstakingly weave a crown. 

While he has never been very good at it - lacking artistic taste, his mother said - Linus was definitely skilled. It was nothing more complicated than the knots he mastered as a scout. If he put his mind to it, like now, he could make a sturdy wreath that would be comfortable to carry on your head and well balanced. It took him a good while to get the yellow stars to behave like he wanted, as they had no real stem, but soon enough, the crown started to emerge. It would go nicely with Arthur's navy sweater, he thought to himself adding more of the rust coloured grass, or the burnt orange neckerchief, or - well, it would go nicely with Arthur. 

He was almost done, just strengthening the wreath with one more layer of thread, when he heard a knock on the door. 

‘Mm-mm!’ he muttered, cutting the thread with his teeth. ‘Come in!’

‘My dear Linus, what's - what's going on here?’

He turned to see Arthur take in the room: the plants scattered on the table and floor, Calliope pretending that a piece of grass was a dead mouse, the puddles of mud around the wellies, and Linus himself at the centre of this chaos. 

‘I, uh,’ Linus stammered, and cleared his throat. His plan had a big gap, he realized now, between him making the crown and Arthur being happy about it. ‘I just - made you a flower crown,’ he said in a rush, and presented it to Arthur in outstretched hands. 

Thank heavens that he cut down the thread before Arthur entered, otherwise it would dangle from the crown now, somehow making this entire situation even worse. Linus tried to find consolation in that as the silence between them stretched into eternity.

‘You made me a flower crown,’ Arthur said slowly, and Linus let out the air he didn't know he was holding. Arthur put down a box that he carried with him and took the wreath from Linus' hands, carefully wrapping his long fingers around it. ‘Why?’

‘I learned that you liked them, and that you would even wear a crown made with couch grass - not that there is anything wrong with couch grass, of course, this one is probably also made of weed, you know, it was supposed to be a beach heather and something else, but I don't know anything about these plants and -’

‘Linus...’

‘You can just toss it, don't worry about it, it was a stupid idea anyway and I -’

He stopped suddenly, as Arthur placed his fingers over his mouth, the gesture delicate but firm. Sometime during Linus' monologue he managed to put the crown on his head and indeed it went nicely with him.

‘It's beautiful,’ Arthur said, his voice low, his eyes dark and glinting. Linus' insides made a sudden swoop. ‘It's perfect.’ He made a step towards Linus, then another, and Linus' back hit the guesthouse wall. ‘I love it.’

And then Arthur's mouth was on his, hot and urgent and relentless. The kiss was different from any other they had shared so far. Linus could barely keep up with it, it felt like drowning and floating at the same time. He made a helpless sound in the back of his throat and it seemed to set Arthur on even more.

‘Beautiful,’ he muttered, moving his mouth to Linus' neck. ‘Perfect.’

Though it seemed impossible, his kisses became even hotter and more urgent. Linus could barely breathe, his focus narrowed down to the patch of skin being kissed, the heat of Arthur's breath, the faint grassy smell of the wreath. For a moment there was nothing but bliss.

And then Arthur opened the buttons at his throat and started to push the shirt down Linus' shoulder, quickly and impatiently. A trail of kisses covered the exposed skin. Linus' eyes snapped open and he jolted and inhaled sharply, suddenly coming back to the reality around him. There was mess on the floor, Calliope was taking a bath under the table. His bed was just a few steps away.

And the light switch was way, way out of reach.

‘My dearest,’ Arthur whispered, leaning away and searching Linus' face. His own was flushed, though now there was a deep frown between his brows. ‘What's wrong? Was it too much? Did I...’

‘No, no, of course not,’ Linus protested, his voice trembling and breathy. It wasn't what he had in mind; the last thing he wanted was to make Arthur feel rejected. He'd done that once already. ‘I just - it's - we need to go to dinner and I can't be - disheveled,’ he managed, though _ravished_ would be more accurate. It sounded lame even in his own ears, but Arthur just smiled at him and pecked him at the cheek.

‘My dear,’ he said, taking a step back, leaving Linus a space to move away. Linus didn't. ‘The dinner is long past - here, I brought you some food.’

Linus watched numbly as Arthur retrieved the box he brought, cleared a corner of the table and took out some cutlery and a hefty portion of a casserole. The wreath on his head was crooked, there was a small smile playing on his lips, and his cheeks were still flushed. Linus felt a sudden surge of emotion; he wanted to tell Arthur how loved he was, how cherished. But his words and his body felt so inadequate. All he had was just a silly wreath woven from dying grass, which caused more problems that it was worth.

‘I didn't mean to skip dinner,’ he said, and felt like he was a student again, explaining himself to his mother. ‘Apologies for the trouble.’

‘There was no trouble - here you go, enjoy!’ Arthur made a grand swooping bow, as if he were a chief waiter in the grandest restaurant in the city. ‘But I expect there will be some tomorrow.’

‘Oh?’

‘Talia shared her learning for the day, how you must be careful not to turn your attempt to woo into a cause for woe.’

‘That's quite a dry joke,’ Linus said around a mouthful of casserole. It was a delicious combination of mushrooms, pumpkin, and some seasoning he couldn't discern but very much enjoyed. ‘But I can imagine it caught on.’

‘Splendidly,’ Arthur agreed, leaning back on the other chair and crossing his legs at the ankles. The yellow flowers in his hair glinted like sparks of fire. Linus felt a sudden need to clear his throat which had nothing to do with the spices in his food. ‘As I am sure you will have a chance to observe in the upcoming weeks, if not months. It will grow on you, I'm sure.’

‘They are terrible,’ Linus said, smile spreading on his face. 

‘Little nightmares,’ Arthur echoed fondly, and then leaned to leave another quick peck on Linus' cheek. ‘I'll go get them into beds. No, my dear, stay here and rest,’ he added, seeing Linus standing up. The smile on his face grew a bit mischievous. ‘You indeed look somewhat _disheveled._ Good night, my Linus, sleep well.’

*

Linus didn't sleep well. Well, in fact Linus didn't sleep at all.

He replayed the entire debacle with the wreath countless times in his head, his cheeks heating from embarrassment and excitement in turns. Arthur liked the wreath, that much was clear, and Linus trusted that he could see the intent behind the clumsiness. But there was still the issue of the kiss and its aftermath, or rather lack thereof.

The problem wasn't that he was inexperienced or afraid. He knew how the bodies work together and what to do, what to expect, so it wasn't the fear stopping him. It was rather - if he allowed himself to be dramatic - the crushing certainty of being a disappointment. He just wasn't good at _this,_ at sex, or at least not good enough. And of course, he reasoned with himself, there was more to it than his body, now tossing and sweating under the sheets. There was all the rest: the love, the want, the excitement, but Linus knew from experience that it wouldn't work anyway, not in the long run. 

Wasn't there excitement and want and love between him and Matt, all these years ago? So what if it was, at least at Linus' side. It didn't help in the end, even one bit; Matt still walked out, because what Linus could give him was not enough. _There's more to life than listening to your Victrola and your adequate blowjobs_ , he'd said and left. 

So, like he said - disappointment, no two ways around it. The subsequent thirteen years he spent alone with his Victrola didn't do much to improve his flair, not to mention his skills in other areas. And now there was Arthur, the most exquisite and unique creature Linus ever encountered, who deserved so much more than a dreary, unemployed ex-clerk with a thinning hairline and sex skills no better than adequate. It should be more romantic than them just snogging somewhere outside of the kids' view, or than a misshapen wreath of wildflowers; there should be a courtship, Linus decided and sat up straight on his bed. There should be poetry and real flowers, and romantic escapades, and plenty of candles around the bed - to build the atmosphere, sure, but also to literally paint Linus in a better light when the time came. Candlelight was so much more forgiving than light bulbs.

This could work, Linus decided, and got up to find his notebook and pen. He finally managed to acquire both, rousing Calliope and stubbing his toe in the process. In the yellow light of the night lamp he jotted down his ideas, firstly just a couple of words, but then, as they started to grow and connect with one another, growing into an elaborate plot. Yes, Linus decided, blinking as his neat handwriting blurred before his eyes, this was going to work. Matt had been right, there was more to life, and Linus sure as hell would do everything to make sure Arthur would get it all.

* * *

Even though the morning found Linus filled with determination, bringing his quite comprehensive courtship plan to life wasn't possible straightaway. As he arrived at breakfast - accompanied by giggles and pointed puns from Talia of course - Zoe commandeered his time and attention again. Together with Phee they worked hard yesterday to bring in the apples and pears from their orchard before they got soggy with rain - sprite magic, she explained as Phee puffed up with pride - but there was no way in the world she was going to peel and core them all on her own.

This is how Linus found himself in the kitchen, humming along Ella Fitzgerald about the trees who said they're tired they bore too much fruit. The smell of cloves and apple sweetness rising from the huge bubbling pots on the stove wrapped around him like a warm blanket. He peeled basket after basket of apples, chopped them into pieces and threw into pots under Zoe's careful tutelage, and he didn't think about anything in particular. Arthur was in the classroom with the kids, explaining to them the mysteries of solving equations for x, and Linus smiled as he imagined their faces scrunched in concentration. He reached for another apple, feeling calm and content. If only it could last.

‘So,’ Zoe said suddenly. It sounded as if was in the middle of a conversation Linus didn't know they were having. ‘You seem very much at home here.’

‘In the kitchen?’ he asked, looking around. Sure, he liked it here and he didn't mind cooking if that's what she was angling at. 

Zoe let out a long huff, and Linus looked over his shoulder to look at her. It had been a while since he'd pulled an all-nighter like this and it felt as if his brain couldn't find the right footing. 

‘On the island,’ she said, rolling her eyes. Linus couldn't exactly blame her. ‘In this house.’

‘I - yes, I do, of course,’ he said, suddenly nervous. Zoe did want him here - she wouldn't have allowed him back on the island otherwise - but the question was unsettling. ‘I want it to be my home,’ he added, just for a good measure.

‘Why the guest house, then?’

She leaned against the counter and tucked a couple of wispy hair locks back under the colorful scarf she'd tied around her head. There was no judgement in her face, just curiosity and concern. Linus didn't know how to respond to them though.

‘I don't want to rush things, to - to spoil them,’ he said quietly, putting the peeler down. He didn't trust himself to do two things at once most days, and today especially. ‘It doesn't feel right just now and I want to do it right,’ he continued, looking at his apple-stained hands. ‘He doesn't deserve anything else.’

Humming with understanding, Zoe turned to the stove and stirred one of the pots. The smell of cinnamon wafted up and made Linus relax a little bit. 

‘I see your point,’ Zoe said with a sigh, turning to him again. ‘And frankly, I was hoping that you'd say something like this.’

‘But?’ Linus prompted and forced himself to look her in the eyes. 

‘But I'm just worried - no, no, just listen for a while. I want you to understand that, when it comes to love, Arthur doesn't really try things, he just does them, one hundred percent in. It's like he's testing waters by diving into them head first.’

‘And you're worried that I'm not committed enough for him,’ Linus finished. He understood the point, he really did, but it didn't help him keep the bitterness out of his voice.

‘And what I _am_ worried about,’ she said with enough emphasis to keep him from interrupting, ‘is that it might be difficult for someone who dips their toes for half a day before he goes for a swim.’

Linus wanted to protest, but he didn't. It must have shown on his face anyway, because Zoe wiped her forehead, tucked in a few strands of hair again, and continued.

‘Look, I've seen Arthur in love before,’ she said and smiled at him. It was fond and sad and amused, and it made Linus' heart squeeze painfully when he realized what she meant. ‘And don't get me wrong, it's different this time, but it can be a lot.’ She looked away for a while, then back at him. ‘I know that you're certain, you're committed, not only to him but to the kids as well, but - just don't let this overwhelm you, okay? Do what feels right.’

Linus nodded, slowly parsing everything she said. He wanted to tell her that he didn't know what felt right, that everything he could think of seemed inadequate. That he'd gotten out of practice with being in love and loving someone that it seemed like an impossible task, too big for someone like him.

‘Thank you,’ he said instead, ‘I will.’ He couldn't find the right words for the rest.

‘Sure,’ Zoe said and turned her attention back to the stove. 

Linus pondered over her words as they kept turning the apples into applesauce and chutney. And the thing was, he did feel overwhelmed sometimes. Compared to the emptiness of 86 Hermes Way the sheer amount of affection shared everyday on Marsyas Island was almost impossible to comprehend, and sometimes it made Linus feel full to the point of bursting. Even after the entire time he spent here it still caused him to wonder if it was a normal thing which he should have had in his life too. And if there were times at which he wasn't sure how to react, what to say to express his thoughts and feelings - well, then he could only hope that the kids would pick up his intent, bright beings that they were.

Arthur though - now this was a different matter altogether. It wasn't just about showing affection, it was rather the question of loving him the right way, though what it meant, Linus wasn't sure himself. So how on Earth was he supposed to do what felt right? What he wanted to do was to gather Arthur in his arms and never let him go, but it was hardly enough.

But Linus could learn, couldn't he. He could even ask Zoe - she said he'd seen Arthur in love, and she wanted Linus to be part of the family, so surely she would help. And as loathsome as talking about Charles Werner felt, there had to be something that he did to make Arthur enamored and to bring him joy, at least for some time. 

‘Say, Zoe,’ he said, turning to her and putting the peeler down again. He was aiming for casual, but even in his own ears it sounded tight. ‘You said that you saw Arthur in love before and I know it's his personal matter but I-’

‘Ap-ple-sauce! Ap-ple-sauce!’

The door opened with a bang and the entire cohort of chanting children entered the kitchen. To Linus' surprise, Theodore was at the front, chirping enthusiastically. He wouldn't suspect a wyvern to be so fond of apples.

‘Oh ho ho, so that's how it is?’ Zoe asked in mock-offended tone, placing hands on her hips. ‘I'm toiling at the stove since sunrise, Linus is knee-deep in apple peels, and now you just barge in here and _demand_ the applesauce?’

‘Please?’ Sal said quietly from the back of the group. ‘It just smells so wonderful...’

‘It sure does,’ Zoe said and shook her head, unable to hold back her smile. ‘Now Theodore, grab the spoons, you two get the biscuits from the cupboard... Sal, come here and help me carry this. And you,’ she added much quieter, turning to Linus for a brief second, ‘talk to him, not to me.’

Oh ho ho, thought Linus, but didn't say anything. He did want the advice after all.

* * *

He didn't talk to Arthur, of course - not about Charles Werner, that is. Other than that, they spent a couple of charming evenings doing nothing much but talking: about the lessons and how Linus might contribute to their curriculum, the upcoming visit of Helen and their own trip to the city, the new writing project Sal was whispering with the kids about but didn't want to share with either of them... It felt blissful to snuggle on the couch and trade long, slow kisses in between one topic and the next, with no head space for anything but bubbling happiness.

The reality hit back as soon as he closed the door of the main house behind him. Every evening he went back to the guesthouse a little later, still warm from their closeness, only to mull over the events of the day and evening. And though everything seemed charming and sweet and much more joyful that he ever imagined, every evening he came to the same conclusion: he had to do something romantic, something spectacular - and quick, before Arthur decided that what Linus offered so far was not enough.

Well, in all honesty, the courtship attempts so far really weren't enough. That one time when Linus set out to shower Arthur with romantic compliments Arthur just laughed and started to whisper sweet nonsenses into his ear, something about Linus trying to charm him out of his pants. Or when Linus suggested a walk under moonlight and almost broke his hand as he flailed and hit it on a tree. He was trying to be - not _seductive,_ that would be setting himself up for a failure from the start, but _romantic,_ yes, that was what he was aiming for. What he got instead was Arthur kissing his palm better, very slowly and very pointedly, looking him into the eye. Which definitely did its work on Linus, but Linus' experiences were beside the point.

Suffice to say, it was long overdue to do something grand and successful. At this stage Linus pinned all his hopes on the romantic evening for two which he'd outlined in his head in the smallest details. There was a shopping list in the back pocket of his trousers, a plan ready in his notebook, and the record set up in his portable player. Now he only needed to gather his resources during today's trip to the town, arrange them somehow between the return trip and the dinner, and get Arthur to join him in the guest house afterwards. Just like that, easy-peasy.

To Linus' joy, the visits to town were becoming something more normal to the children. Sure, the excitement was still here, but apparently they went there two times while he was away and they already had their favorite places and made some acquaintances. He promised to take Sal to the second-hand bookshop to grab some books on creative writing that the friendly owner set aside for him, and to find something unique for Theodore in the vintage shop nearby. And even though he was a little - well, okay, a lot - stressed about today's evening, Linus was still eager to accompany them, to see the town in a more pleasant light. It felt good to listen to Sal talking to Arthur about the books he'd gotten before and how the owner gave him not only book recommendations but also lots of advice for the mysterious project he was working on. It kept the stress at bay.

‘So how do you feel about going for a treasure hunt, hm?’ Linus said, patting his shoulder in an invitation for Theodore. 

Judging by the amount of wing flapping, chirping, and shoulder scratching that ensued, Theodore was excited indeed. He jumped between Linus' and Sal's shoulders, making them both giggle.

‘Okay, okay, we can go to the vintage store first,’ Sal said in between giggles. ‘But you have to promise to behave, not like the last time!’ 

‘What happened the last time?’ Linus asked and immediately felt awkward. He should have been there instead of asking silly questions. But neither Sal or Theodore seemed fazed.

‘Oh, you wouldn't believe! Theodore refused to leave the shop!’

Theodore flapped his wings and chirped indignantly, almost falling off of Linus' shoulder. 

‘You sure did! And then he couldn't decide between two sets of earrings, and he wanted to take one piece of each, but the shopkeeper didn't agree...’

It was the first time he heard Sal speaking so animatedly; it made him smile so widely that his cheeks hurt. 

‘Maybe you could write about it,’ he said, looking at Sal. ‘It will make a great story, I would love to read it someday.’

‘I, um...’

Linus stopped in his tracks and turned to Sal, his smile falling. Theodore yelped and jumped on Sal's shoulder, butting his head against his face. For one panicked moment Linus thought that Sal was going to turn into the Pomeranian, but he just stared at his feet, his cheeks darkening.

‘Look, I just said that - I didn't want to put any pressure on you,’ Linus said quickly. He tried to look Sal into the eyes, but the boy kept his gaze fixed at his feet. ‘Writing is a very private thing, so you write only what you enjoy and not let any old men tell you otherwise, okay?’

‘No, it's just - I never thought anyone would really want to read something I write.’

Oh, Linus thought, and took a step towards Sal. He almost hugged him, but stopped himself just in time.

‘Sal, my dear boy, you must know that I would feel happy and honored to read anything of yours that you shared with me,’ he said solemnly, and Theodore chirped his assent. ‘You have a remarkable way with words - the poem on how you're but paper, it went straight to my heart. And I promise you, when you're ready to share, everyone will be excited to read your writing.’

‘Thank you,’ Sal mumbled, and when he finally looked up, his cheeks were red and there was a tiny shy smile on his face.

Linus reached out, unsure whether to shake Sal's hand or pat him on the shoulder. Sal solved the problem for him, grabbing his hand and tugging him forward.

‘Let's go,’ he said, and nudged Theodore with the other hand. ‘Maybe this time we can find you a nice necklace to complement the earrings, huh?’

The vintage shop smelled of musty books, clothes, air freshener and disinfectant. The owner, a woman of Linus' age with a colorful scarf wrapped around her head, peeked from behind a huge clothes rack and smiled widely at the sight of them.

‘Well well well, isn't that the earrings fan?’ she asked, shaking her head. Her own earrings jingled loudly and Theodore made an excited sound. ‘Nuh-uh, you're not getting these ones, bub. But take a look here, maybe you'll find something interesting.’

There was a deafening screech as she opened a box full of small jewellery: mismatched earrings, brooches, pins, hair ornaments... Theodore was lost for the world as he dove into this treasure chest, as the shopkeeper set aside a couple of colorful items and explained their story. Sal leaned to take a look, but his attention was quickly grabbed by some old teacups and saucers.

This could be Linus' chance.

‘Sal, could you do me a favor? I need to grab a few things from the store, can I leave you two here for a moment?’

‘Of course,’ Sal replied, looking at Linus over his shoulder. He looked like he wanted to say something else, but didn't.

‘Thank you, I'm immensely grateful,’ Linus babbled, looking nervously at Theodore and back at Sal. ‘It won't take a minute, I'll just-’

‘It's okay,’ Sal repeated, turning to him with a frown on his face. ‘You don't need to rush, I don't think Theodore will be ready to leave for at least an hour. I'll keep an eye on him,’ he added solemnly, ‘I promise.’

‘My boy, you're a treasure,’ Linus said. This time he didn't hesitate and pulled Sal into a brief hug; to his immense relief the boy leaned against him too. ‘Thank you.’

He rushed out of the shop and to the store nearby, fully intending to spend as little time away from the children as possible. And, to be fair, to spend as little time in the store as possible too. Grocery shopping was one of his least favorite chores, but his dislike made him very tactical about this. Luckily, the store wasn't big and the crowd was manageable, so he managed the entire affair making just three stops. Firstly in the alcohol aisle to grab two bottles of wine - and Pinot Noir no less, which should should elevate the romanticism of the evening by a couple of levels. Then the household section, where he bought wine glasses, just to avoid the necessity to taking them from the main house, and three packs of candles. Two packs would probably be enough, but better safe than sorry. And finally, the dreaded health and beauty aisle. He waited for what felt like an eternity for two young girls to pick their fruity lip balms and leave, and then he snuck into the aisle looking over his shoulder and threw the nearest pack of condoms into his basket. Then he reached for the lube and froze mid-movement, struck by a sudden thought. It was very presumptuous of him to get the _supplies,_ wasn't it? Over the last couple of days Arthur has been sweet and loving, but there were no more heated kisses, no hands wandering urgently over his body. What if all this was unnecessary? What if-

‘Excuse me, could you help me?’

Linus - to call things by their name - _squeaked like a piglet_ and dropped the lube on the floor. Thanks to merciful heavens, the tube was firmly shut.

‘I, um, that is, uh...’ he stuttered, gathering the tube and looking up. A tiny young woman stood there, her lips quavering from suppressed mirth. She had a shining piercing in her left eyebrow that made him think of Theodore.

‘I can't reach the polish remover, could you grab it for me?’ she asked, and then looked at the tube in his hand. ‘And do yourself a favor and get the purple one. Vanilla flavor my ass, they just stuffed some yellow paint there, and believe me, it will only give you itch.’

‘Of - of course,’ he managed, put the tube away, took the other one and dropped it into his basket. He looked in her general direction, but not at her. He was too mortified for that. ‘Thank you.’

‘Can't go wrong with the classic,’ she said with a shrug and smiled at him. ‘Um, the polish remover?’

Linus handed her the bottle and fled without looking back, even though he was sure he heard her laughing. With his heart in his throat he grabbed two bunches of small roses from the stand near the exit and proceeded with the self-checkout, his hands shaking and the machine beeping uncontrollably. He stuffed his shopping into a huge bag with a flap cover which he brought with himself - a scout should always be prepared after all - and ran towards the vintage shop.

True to Sal's word, Theodore was still occupied with finding his treasure. Sal looked up from where he was contemplating three stained glass candle holders, raised his eyebrows at Linus' stuffed bag, but didn't say anything. It was all right, Linus told himself and relaxed, just a little bit, tilting his head back and closing his eyes. He had the plan. He had the resources. Everything was in its place.

It was going to be all right.

* * *

It wasn't all right. It was so far from all right that Linus wanted to scream from sheer frustration. He was running out of time - the dinner was almost up, and he still wasn't satisfied how the candles looked around the bed. His hands were shaking as he tried to get them to stick to the headboard and floor using drops of hot wax. The slightly melted look was kind of nice, like something out of _Lady and the Tramp_ \- which Linus watched about ten thousand times as a child and still considered the height of romance even in his ripe old age of forty. So okay, maybe he could leave the candles be for now, and just quickly rearrange the roses, and change into his best shirt, the one with the blue stripes, and...

‘I appreciate the thought, but occult rituals really don't work for me that way,’ Arthur said from the door.

Linus let out an undignified yelp and dropped the candle on his foot, spilling the wax. 

‘What,’ he stammered, looking between Arthur and the candle. His head was suddenly empty of all thoughts, there was only the sound of blood pounding in his ears. ‘What are you - why are you here now - why?’

’It makes much more sense now,’ Arthur continued, as if he hadn't heard the question. He took in the candles, the roses, the wine glasses blinking in the light, and finally looked at Linus, who by that time almost vibrated out of his skin. ‘Come with me, my dear. We need to talk.’

Oh. Oh no. Linus felt himself freezing into place, unable to move or to protest. If they were going to have a _We need to talk_ talk, it meant that it was too late. There was only one possible resolution to this sort of conversation, at least in Linus' experience.

Arthur entered the space, collected the wine and the glasses and put them in the bag he carried, and then picked up Linus' warmest sweater. 

‘Here, wear this, we're - what is it, my love? Are you all right?’

‘Yes,’ Linus said numbly, pulling the sweater over his head and walking towards the door. ‘Let's go and talk, then.’

Arthur took his hand and led him towards the forest, taking the path they used to go to the shelter, but then turning into a trail that they never visited before. It wound downwards, and soon they found themselves in a bay opening into a stony beach, surrounded from all sides by the forest. In the darkness it seemed like a nook hidden from the world, safe from all turmoils. Linus felt his insides squeeze at the thought.

‘Here,’ Arthur muttered, spreading the blanket over a log and patting it invitingly. 

Linus sat down and stared ahead; it took him a couple of seconds to realize that the structure in front of him was a bonfire about to be lit. Crouching in front of it, Arthur touched twigs here and there; the fire danced around his skin in a way that mesmerised Linus even now. How could he have hoped that such a wondrous creature would have him?

‘Now, I wanted to talk to you away from all the curious ears,’ Arthur said, turning and sitting next to him. The growing fire highlighted the fine bones of his face. ‘You've been acting weird over the last couple of days, my love, and we need to talk about what is going on.’

A nod was all that Linus managed. He waited for Arthur to continue, to finish things quickly, but he didn't. For a moment there was nothing but the crashing sound of waves and the crackling of the fire. When he dared to look up, Arthur was there, looking at him calmly, with a gentle smile on his face.

‘I tried,’ Linus whispered, dropping his eyes at his knees. ‘I did, but I can do better, I swear.’ Suddenly he felt dizzy with hope and took a deep breath, trying to steady himself. He twisted his fingers together, trying to keep his hands from shaking. ‘I will do better, if you just give ma a chance.’

‘A chance? Linus, my dear, what are you - hey, look at me.’ Arthur's hand covered his own, warm and gentle. Linus squeezed his eyelids for a brief second, and then looked up, only to find Arthur frowning, his face tight with worry. ‘There you are. Now, I certainly saw a lot of trying this last couple of days, but what chance are you talking about?’

‘A chance to give you what you deserve.’ There it was, out in the air. It felt as if a huge weight dropped off of Linus' shoulders, and suddenly he was able to speak again. ‘I know it's not much right now, but I'll do my best, I promise. I just - I need you to tell me what you want, and I'll - I'll do anything.’

Something shifted in Arthur's face at these words. The fire fluttered and reflected in his eyes, and suddenly, for the first time since Linus got to know him, he looked angry.

‘Anything,’ he repeated, voice low. ‘Why on earth would you think I'd want that? You'll make all these - these forced advances and then what, you'll just lie down in that occult circle and let yourself be preyed upon by the beast you allowed into your bed?’

‘What? No, Arthur, no. I just, I just want you to be happy. I love you and-’

‘And?’ Arthur leaned to him, challenge written on his face. ‘What else is there?’

‘Nothing! It's - that's all there is,’ Linus managed, freeing one of his hands and waving at himself. His voice sounded strange in his ears, bitter enough to made his lips tremble, as if it didn't belong to him but to Matt. And with that thought the words were here too, fresh in his memory as if he'd just heard them. ‘And if that's all you get, it's never going to be enough. It can hardly go anywhere, can it now.’

Arthur didn't say anything; his jaw was working tight and the hand that he kept over Linus' own flexed and became warmer almost to the point of burning. At some point he looked like he wanted to say something, but instead he just swallowed hard and shook his head.

‘If that's all I get,’ he said finally, looking Linus straight into the eye, and then shook his head again. ‘No, that's not it. If I get _all that_ ,’ and here he repeated Linus' gesture, slower and more deliberate, ‘then I'm going to die a happy man. I need you to understand that. I don't want anything more.’

‘But-’

‘No,’ Arthur interrupted immediately and clasped Linus' wrists, tugging him close. ‘I have no idea who told you this, what sort of blind, cruel idiot they had to be to hurt you so, but it's not true. It's not. You have to believe me.’

It was impossible to speak with his throat closed and mouth trembling, but he managed to nod. Linus closed his eyes, now burning and wet, and let himself be held. 

‘That's it, that's enough,’ Arthur murmured into his hair, only loud enough to be heard over the sound of fire and the waves. ‘There's nothing more I could want but you.’

Linus had no idea how much time they spent like this; he tried not to think and just focus on the glow coming from the fire and warmth of Arthur's arms. He repeated the words in his head over and over, _I don't want anything more_ and _that's enough_. It didn't seem fully real just yet, but in a close embrace like this it seemed - possible to believe.

The fire started to die down; Arthur stirred and stood up, feeding it with a couple of branches. In the dancing, orange light his face didn't seem angry anymore, only gentle and sad, but when he turned back to Linus he smiled, as if the sadness was never there.

‘Are you ready to move to part two of the evening, my dear Linus?’

‘Part two?’

‘Well, you brought the wine, I brought the food,’ he said, fishing out Tupperware containers from his bag. Linus thought it was going to be their thing, the Tupperware food, and felt himself color up. ‘So we can just sit back and enjoy the evening meal in silence.’ He manoeuvred back to the log and handed Linus one of the containers, printed with happy watermelon cuts. It was full of different mini-pies and rolls, and had a plastic fork included in the lid. 

A moment later they both sat on the log, eating their mini-pies from the Tupperware (Arthur's had crocodiles on it) and sipping the Pinot Noir from Linus' expertly polished wine glasses. Arthur sighed with content and stretched his legs towards the fire, crossing them at the ankles.

Not that Linus would voice this opinion, for the fear of tempting fate, but the evening went from terrible to much better than he imagined. And while he felt a pang of embarrassment when he thought about the other activities he outlined in his plan, there wasn't any disappointment. If Arthur said he wanted him - and he wouldn't lie - then there was still time to work on that part.

‘So tell me about the occult circle on your bed,’ Arthur said, closing his Tupperware container with a crunch.

Or, with Linus' typical luck, there was no time at all.

‘Did you plan a blood sacrifice there, or...?’

‘I didn't!’ he huffed indignantly and waved his glass at Arthur. ‘And it wasn't occult, it was _romantic!_ You know: candlelight, flowers, I got the records ready, everything was set for-’

He caught himself and bit his tongue. The silence stretched between them, a nearly palpable thing.

‘Yeah,’ Arthur said quietly, looking up at him. ‘I wanted to talk about that, too.’

There was a rush of words and assurances coming to Linus' lips: a _nything, everything, I want to give you whatever you want_. But as much as it felt natural for him to say them, he didn't think Arthur would appreciate them. 

‘I don't know what to say,’ he whispered instead, balling his fists. He wanted to look up at Arthur but couldn't bring himself to do it. ‘I just - I'm not - I mean, I _want_ to, but...’

‘I'm fine with whatever you decide,’ Arthur assured quickly. ‘The last thing I wish is to pressure you into something...’

‘I don't want you to be fine!’ he interrupted. He stopped himself from adding _and I want you to pressure me_ , but only just. There was honest, and then there was desperate, right? ‘Look, the thing is that I - I don't have that much experience to have any specific expectations.’ There, he said it, and he was being adult about it. He pushed all the thoughts of his relationship with Matt firmly from his mind, and took a deep breath. ‘It looked like you wanted to... do _things,_ you know,’ he finished lamely. And so being adult about it went through the window and straight into the ocean. ‘So I just set the space for you - I mean, for us - to do the things.’

Linus sent a quick prayer to the Marsyas Island to open up below him and swallow him whole to spare him the mortification. But of course it didn't and he had to brace himself for Arthur's reply. It didn't come for a while, but Arthur didn't look irritated with him. He was twiddling his thumbs and there was a thoughtful frown on his face, so as much as it costed him, Linus gave him his time.

‘You know, my dearest man, you never cease to amaze me,’ Arthur finally said, stilling his hands. ‘The assumption that I am the one with expectations and experience is certainly...’

‘Oh please,’ Linus scoffed and smacked him on his elbow. A small gesture as it was, it lessened the grip of mortification a little. ‘Don't be coy.’

‘I don't know how it works in the city, but around here being the lanky gay philosophy major from the DICOMY special school doesn't necessarily get you laid.’

It was said lightly, as a joke, but Linus could hear bitterness behind these words, like an old pain resurfacing just for a moment. He filed that thought away for later.

‘But you're you,’ he countered and Arthur laughed. There was mirth in it, but the edge didn't disappear. He tried to wave off the protest, but Linus wasn't so easily deterred. ‘You're smart, and kind, and charming, and so handsome that it's hard to look away, and...’

‘Now you're just trying to sweet-talk me out of my pants,’ Arthur said with a wink. This time his laughter sounded much more genuine.

‘Is it working?’

‘Do you want it to?’

And just like that, Linus found himself short on breath, with heat rising to his cheeks and heart thumping in his throat. In the golden light of the bonfire Arthur's eyes were dark and wide, and the smile tugging at the corner of his lips made Linus' own mouth go dry.

‘Yes,’ he whispered, and Arthur smile went wider. 

‘Good,’ he muttered, and pulled Linus into a kiss. It was slow and deliberate, claiming every inch of Linus' mouth. ‘Good,’ Arthur repeated, pulling away. His voice was breathy and his eyes were almost black; his hands were clasped tightly in Linus' shirt. ‘Because it's working like hell.’ He kissed him again, on the corner of his mouth, on the jaw, on his ear. ‘And I need to know how you want it to work,’ he whispered, mouthing on the earlobe, and giving it the tiniest bite.

It felt as if something vital short-circuited in Linus' brain. He must have made a sound, because Arthur chuckled as he kissed the earlobe better.

‘I need to know what you want,’ Arthur murmured, hands stroking slowly over Linus' chest up to his throat, mouth never leaving his ear. ‘So think about it, my love. Think about it a lot.’

‘Oh fuck,’ Linus whined and swallowed hard. Nothing in his limited sexual experience prepared him for Arthur telling him to fantasise about what he wanted. And he wanted, oh he did - 

‘Yeah, just like that. And then...’ He turned Linus' face towards himself, grabbing him under his chin. His cheeks were dark and his eyes wide, and Linus mouthed _Oh fuck_ again, because that was how Arthur looked. ‘When you're ready, my darling, come and tell me.’

‘Yes,’ Linus whispered, and even in spite of his addled brain he felt the weight of the promise being made. ‘Yes, I will.’


	2. November

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Firstly - thank you all for the wonderful response to this fic. It means a lot, especially in such a small fandom. I really appreciate every view, comment or kudos. 
> 
> Secondly - in case you want to take a look at how I imagine some of the characters, you can take a look at [my fanarts here :-)](https://little-miss-carrot.tumblr.com/post/633382994766430208/love-the-thing-you-grow-into-misscarrot-the)
> 
> Thirdly - enjoy and take care of yourselves. It's a dreary November in my part of the world, so if that's the case for you as well, may you find a bit of sunshine every day!

November

Linus sat at the kitchen table, stirring sugar into a cup of coffee. Recently, as urged by his doctor, he'd switched to taking his coffee black no sugar, but today he decided to make allowances. Lucy had another nightmare and it was worse that the previous one Linus experienced. The house shook so hard that one of the windows in the living room fell off from its frame. After shooing everyone - Arthur included - back to bed, he patched the hole with a piece of cardboard and a blanket, and then just stayed in the kitchen instead of coming back to the guesthouse. He didn't feel like sleeping at all, but now the tiredness started to catch up with him and hence the strong black coffee with just enough sugar to make the bitterness manageable.  


Lucy dreamt about people with glowing eyes and mouth coming after him, shedding layers of skin and crawling with spiders. _It's the Jack o' lanterns_ , Arthur explained tiredly afterwards, _last year it was exactly the same_.  


They celebrated Halloween in the unique Marsyas Island style - with colorful paper lanterns instead of the carved pumpkins, and with the costumes represented who they wanted to be in the future. It seemed all right then, if cautious and deliberately cheerful at times. But of course the children saw the lanterns, monster costumes and spooky decorations in the town anyway. And it was enough.  


It shouldn't have surprised Linus - and in a way it didn't. He understood the need behind celebrating anything but the scary and the monstrous. But then the amount of pain the children went through during their short lives always shocked him. Now he sat in the kitchen, staring at the trees emerging from the darkness behind the window, and thought about Lucy, terrified to bits and writhing in Arthur's embrace. And then he thought of the other children, whose nightmares didn't cause little earthquakes, but surely were no less scary.  


He heard footsteps approaching and turned to see Arthur, rubbing his eyes and yawning.  


'My darling man,' Arthur said, blinking like an owl and giving him a small tired smile. He was still in his sleeping clothes and Linus felt a familiar tug of protectiveness at the sight of his bare feet. 'What are you doing here so early?'  


Arthur seemed so vulnerable with his eyes bleary and his hair sticking in all directions like a halo. He jumped off the chair and went to the coffee machine, desperate to do something to quieten this distress, but stopped in his tracks.  


'Hey, come here.'  


Even though Arthur had a good couple of inches on him, he folded himself somehow into Linus' arms. Linus hugged him close and felt a ragged exhale against his collarbone.  


'He's going to be okay,' he murmured, running his hand through Arthur's hair. 'They all are. We'll help them heal.'  


He felt Arthur's shoulder slump and his fingers dig into Linus' shoulders like claws.  


'Yes,' Arthur whispered and leaned back to look at him. 'Together I think we'll manage.'  


He let go and sat down heavily, slumping over the table. Linus busied himself with the coffee - no milk, no sugar, but a pinch of cardamom - casting quick glances at Arthur from the corner of his eye. He was pale and the circles under his eyes were so dark that they looked like bruises.  


'Why so early, then?' Artur repeated, accepting the mug and smiling at the rising smell of cardamom. 'Couldn't sleep?'  


'No,' Linus admitted with a shrug and looked down at his hands. 'I didn't feel like sleeping, and I needed some space to think... I must say I didn't expect that Halloween would distress them so much. It should have been obvious, but...'  


'It surprises me every time,' Arthur said numbly, staring into his mug and tapping fingers against the table. Linus stilled and sat down in the opposite chair. 'Each time Lucy has a nightmare, it feels worse than the last one. Each time Chauncey squeezes himself under a bed or Sal shifts into a dog in terror, it feels worse. Because even though I should know better, I keep hoping that this was the last time, that they're going to be all right from now on. That in their heads the monsters will disappear, and they'll stay the children they are. But it keeps happening, no matter how hard I want it to stop. So indeed, it should have been obvious. It just never is.'  


Linus reached across the table and placed his hands over Arthur's, stilling them as he looped their fingers together. He looked at them for a while, searching for words.  


'There are no monsters on this island,' he finally said, looking up at Arthur's pale face and his shadowed eyes. 'And if someone - anyone - needs to hear that a thousand times before they believe it, I'll be here to repeat it.'  


Arthur gave him a small, warm smile and squeezed his fingers tightly. Emboldened by that, Linus raised their joined hands to his mouth and kissed Arthur's knuckles. It felt like a small wonder every time, even after all these weeks - that he, Linus Baker, was allowed to hold hands with someone like Arthur Parnassus, and kiss him because he felt like it.  


'My darling man,' Arthur said, sounding as if he'd also been full of wonder, 'how dear you are to me.'  


The clock in the hall chimed half past seven, and the back door leading from kitchen directly to the yard sprung open, like a part of the same mechanism. Zoe entered the kitchen, brushing a couple of hair wisps from her eyes. Her face was pale and drawn too - she went back home after they put the children back to beds, but apparently she didn't enjoy a restful sleep either.  


'Morning,' she drawled, and snorted at how Linus jumped in his place and tugged his hand. Arthur didn't let go though, and Linus had to repeat to himself that he was allowed to hold Arthur's hand, and Zoe didn't mind and was happy for them. Zoe made a face and waved a hand at them with a gracious air. 'By all means, continue, no need to stop on my account.'  


'I wasn't planning to,' Arthur said, and kissed Linus' knuckles slowly, one by one.  


Zoe rolled her eyes theatrically, but she was smiling as she turned to the stove and set the water to boil.   


'How are they?'  


'Asleep, I hope.' Arthur stood up, freeing his fingers gently from Linus' grasp. 'I'll go wake them up. We'll just start everything half an hour later.'  


Linus considered briefly if it wouldn't be better to leave the children be, give them a lesson-free day to recover. But maybe disturbing the routine would do more harm than good, he reasoned. And besides, he thought struck with a sudden idea, maybe they needed something else entirely to process and recover.  


'Say, Arthur, could I take over the lesson after the lunch today?' he asked in a rush, before he had the chance to reconsider and drop the idea. 'Unless you have a fixed schedule, of course.'  


'Naturally, my dear,' Arthur said slowly.   


Linus felt both his and Zoe's curious gazes on himself, and made a conscious effort to sit straight without cowering. He was fairly certain that the idea he had for the lesson was a good one, and he readied himself to defend it if either of them wanted to challenge him on it. But they didn't.  


'What is it going to be?'  


'Arts,' Linus said and frowned. 'And crafts, I suppose, but arts mostly.'  


Arthur nodded and left the kitchen; after a second of hesitation Linus rose and rushed after him. Zoe shot him a funny stare from under her raised brows, which he pretended not to notice.  


'I'll go with you,' he said as he caught up with Arthur at the bottom of the stairs. 'If that's okay.'  


'Of course.' Arthur frowned and looked like he wanted to say more. But Linus went up two steps and, feeling encouraged by his small triumph with the lesson, kissed him - a quick, meaningful thing. Then he went all the way up, feeling a rush of energy under his skin. Maybe it was the caffeine with sugar going through his veins. Or maybe it was the anger at today nights' events, how the people he cared deeply about suffered and there was little he could do about it. Either way, this nervous movement led him under the door to the first room - Talia's - but he paused with his hand clasped around the doorknob.  


'I'm not sure if that's appropriate,' he muttered, turning to Arthur.  


'I can't say why it wouldn't be,' Arthur countered as he covered Linus' hand with his own and pushed the door open. 'Good morning Talia,' he said as he entered the room and went over to Talia's bed. 'The sun's up, and it's a bright new day for you to bloom, my dear.'  


'Morning Arthur,' came a muffled reply, and a moment later Talia's head appeared between the covers. Her beard and hair were wispy and mussed, and in the gray light of the morning they looked a bit like Zoe's. 'Morning Linus,' she added with a hint of surprise in her voice.  


'Good morning dear girl,' he said awkwardly, 'did you sleep well?' He winced at the phrasing of the question but Talia didn't seem to mind.  


'Yeah, you know, as well as I could.'  


'That's good to hear.' Arthur turned on the table lamp and the room warmed instantly with its orange glow. 'I'll see you downstairs then,' he added, and left taking Linus along with him.  


As they entered Chauncey's room, Linus expected something - a comment, a guidance - but Arthur didn't say anything, which Linus took as a signal that he was welcome to continue. Chauncey all but jumped in his bed when woken up, but it didn't faze Arthur in the slightest. Wiggling his eye stalks, Chauncey explained that for most of the night he felt too agitated to sleep and he just stayed in his bed, blinking into the darkness.  


'I felt the same,' Linus admitted. 'I should have come and checked on you.'  


'Yeah!' There was nothing but pure eagerness in Chauncey's voice, not even the slightest hint of blame. 'If you could come here and hold my tentacle as you did when we were waiting outside, I'm sure I could fall asleep. It helps me calm down, you know?'  


'I, that is-' Linus swallowed and looked briefly away, but then back at Chauncey. 'I'll do that next time, I promise.'  


Humming enthusiastically, Chauncey clambered out of his bed. They left him to it and went over to Phee's tree. She seemed fine at the first glance, already awake and weaving twigs of ivy into her hair. But her pale face and curt, gruff responses told another story. Guided by Arthur's gentle but firm tug, Linus left the room without pressing further.  


They called on Theodore, who screeched and almost fell off of his nest as he startled awake. He flapped his wings gracelessly, yelping anxiously as he tried to perch on Arthur's shoulder.  


'Don't worry, my dear boy, everything is in order,' Linus assured, as Arthur stroked the trembling wings. 'No more earthquakes planned for today - our schedule is full to the brim with nice things only.'  


Theodore chirped quizzically, looking from under Arthur's hand, making them both chuckle.  


'Who knows, buttons may also be on the agenda,' Linus said with what he hoped was a mysterious wink. 'Let's see after the breakfast, shall we?'  


They were still smiling when they paused at Sal's door.  


'Is it like that every day? I mean, is this your normal morning routine?' Linus asked, thinking how sweet it would be to greet the children like this, without the shadow of the nightmare looming over them.   


'Usually I wake them at seven and I'm dressed, but yes,' Arthur said and the frown from earlier returned to his face.  


'I'd like to join you then, if you agree - and if you think it's appropriate, of course, I wouldn't want to...'  


'Linus, my dear,' Arthur interrupted, placing a hand on his shoulder, 'I honestly don't see what's not appropriate about this.'  


Linus opened his mouth, ready to recite the list of reasons. Regardless of the emotional bond between them, Arthur was the orphanage master and Linus was a nobody who shouldn't even be allowed on the grounds of the Marsyas House. There were seven paragraphs on that topic in the _Rules and regulations_ , and while Linus considered these ones sensible, he didn't feel like quoting them. He was certain that most of the considerations included there didn't even occur to Arthur.  


'I'm sure they all want you to,' Arthur said and gestured towards the row of doors behind them. It only confirmed Linus' reasoning. 'As do I.'  


It heartened Linus a bit - well, they both knew that there wasn't a reason to worry, and it wasn't like DICOMY would send them another caseworker any time soon. But his heart dropped as soon as they entered Sal's room and saw the tiny Pomeranian curled on the blanket.   


'Oh Sal,' he whispered, covering his mouth. It was just as he feared.  


Arthur crouched in front of the bed and addressed Sal quietly, encouragingly. He shot Linus a glance over his shoulder and inclined his head.  


'I'll go check on Lucy,' Linus announced to no one in particular and went into Arthur's bedroom.   


He took in the space - the unmade bed with rumpled sheets, the stacks of books towering next to it, the shoes left carelessly in the corner. Taking a deep breath, he knocked on the closet door, and entered as no reply came.   


Lucy was asleep, breathing loudly through his mouth and covering his eyes with one arm. This was the single peaceful element in the room; the rest was a chaos of upturned desk and chair, clothes flung around, and books forming a wall around the bed. It looked like a stronghold, Linus thought as he came closer, to keep Lucy safe from the nightmares with the glaring eyes.  


'Good morning Lucy,' he said, crouching in front of the bed. He got a mumble in response. 'It's time to wake up.'  


'Did I have a nightmare?' Lucy asked without lifting the arm from his face.   


'I'm afraid so, my dear boy,' Linus said and touched his elbow. 'But you are safe and so is everyone else. Even your records stayed intact.'  


Lucy stirred at this and sat on the bed.  


'I always hope that is was just something I dreamt of,' he muttered, rubbing his eyes. 'The nightmare. But it's real every time.'  


'It was real this time too,' Linus admitted. 'But I am here and I'll do what I can to help you feel better.'  


Lucy blinked a couple of times and reached out; Linus sat on the bed and pulled him into a hug.  


'Will you stay with me today? During the lessons?' Lucy held him tight, his face pressed against Linus' sternum.   


'Of course, my boy, if you think it's going to help.'  


'It is. When my head is all...' Lucy trailed off and made a wavy gesture without moving his face from Linus' chest. 'You feel like rain.'  


'Dull?' Linus guessed with a smile.  


'Yeah,' Lucy agreed with a giggle. 'But like, in a nice way. You make me feel calmer.'  


'It's a deal then.'  


There was a smile on his face when Linus left the closet, but it turned into a gasp. He saw Arthur's back as he threw on a shirt and started to fasten it. Damn it, I'm too late, a half of his brain thought immediately, but the other half hushed it and made Linus clear his throat to announce his presence.  


'Darling.' Arthur turned to him, closing the last buttons at his navel. 'Sal shifted back to a boy, he said he had a nightmare just before he woke up in the morning. How's Lucy?'  


'As good as he can be, I suppose,' Linus said, mesmerized by the sight of Arthur rolling up his sleeves. There was nothing unusual or deliberate in either style or gesture - Arthur wore his sleeves up even in this weather - but watching him do it felt intimate. And distracting.  


'And how are you?'  


Before Linus could answer, he heard a commotion in Lucy's room and all but threw himself towards the door.  


'I'm okay - I've just learnt that I'm dull but in a nice way, apparently,' he said, trying to dispel his thoughts. No matter what Arthur said earlier, it felt extremely inappropriate to talk like that here, with a child just at the other side of the wall.   


'The nicest, for sure, though I wouldn't use the word _dull,_ exactly.' Arthur reached out and squeezed Linus' fingers briefly. 'See you at breakfast, my lovely man.'

* * *

The day felt oddly similar to Linus' first week on the island. When he asked Arthur if he can stay in the classroom during the morning lessons, Arthur just shrugged.  


'Naturally, my dear. Where else would you be?' he asked, as if Linus hadn't spent the last weeks reading, helping Zoe in the kitchen and doing odd jobs around the house to avoid disturbing their routine.   


And so Linus sat at the back of the classroom, like in these first four weeks, and listened to geography lesson. Or rather three separate geography lessons going on at the same time in the same room, since the kids had different level of base knowledge. Arthur explained, wrangled maps, told stories and went through exercises in a way that made them children feel included and competent though. Linus noticed this in his professional capacity earlier, of course, but now he just felt happy that the children were well cared for.  


The children in question - mostly Lucy - kept turning to look at him. He smiled reassuringly but didn't intervene in the lesson in any way, partially out of habit and partially because he was thinking about his afternoon slot. It seemed to only spike the curiosity about his presence though, because at lunch he was showered with questions. Was he going to join them in their lessons from now on? Was it true that he was going to teach them in the afternoon - oh, so it was only for today or forever? Did he sleep in the main house and was he going to live with them, or in his separate house like Zoe did? Despite Linus' best efforts to give noncommittal answers - especially to the last question - it still caused a heated discussion. Judging by the warmth of his cheeks, his embarrassment was clearly visible on his face. He excused himself to prepare for the lesson, and fled the scene with as much dignity as he could muster, accompanied by Zoe's cackle barely covered as a coughing fit.  


Embarrassment aside, Linus didn't lie about the need to prepare for the lesson. He got the idea shortly after his return to Marsyas Island, when he spent a couple of days exploring the attic to avoid disturbing the classes. In between chipped blackboards, dimmed lamps, a basket of old photos and heaps of other similar treasures he found a chest full of musical instruments: ukulele without strings, drums with holes or missing sticks, a glockenspiel with gaps between bars and other similar pieces. Over the course of several weeks he fixed the pieces one by one during the lesson time, using the tools and scraps found at the attic. Now most of them were functional and ready to make music with - and this was where his original idea ended. Initially he just wanted the children to play with them - he remembered the joy that comes from making music, one of his fondest childhood memories - but after the nightmare today he got a different idea.  


Having lugged the chest down to the classroom, he placed it in the middle of the room and arranged the seats in a crooked circle around it. Next to it he placed boxes with the craft supplies, and a couple of wooden spoons he pilfered from the kitchen. The probability that Zoe would yell at him afterwards was close to one, but Linus felt content with the state of his preparations.  


'May we come in?' Arthur asked from the gap in the door left ajar.  


'Ready when you are, my dears.'  


The children filed into the room, taking in the change in the layout and the boxes in the center. Spotting glitter jars, Theodore let out an excited shriek and dove towards them, but Phee's sharp _Hey!_ stopped him in his tracks.  


'So, um - welcome to the afternoon class,' Linus said and cleared his throat. 'Please sit down, everyone, wherever you feel most comfortable. Everyone,' he added, beckoning Arthur who hovered at the door. Arthur raised his eyebrows, but folded himself into one of the chairs. 'The last couple of days were very difficult for you - that is, for us all of course, but for you in particular, in ways I can't even begin to understand. And I feel-' he paused, sifting through the words in his head, but none felt appropriate. 'I feel _a lot_ , but I'm not good enough with words. It's hard for me to express myself most of the time. But I'm better with music - with _sounds,'_ he amended quickly. Better not to raise any expectations about his musical abilities. 'And I thought that we might try the sounds to express how we feel. So I want you all to pick an instrument with a sound that feels right to you. You can decorate it and then play it, just let it - speak for you, I guess.'  


'So... we can pick any of these and just make noise?' Talia asked tentatively after a pause.  


'Yes,' Linus said with a solemn nod.  


'And we can choose the one we like and decorate it however we want?' Chauncey confirmed, his eye stalks turning between Linus and the chest. 'And then make noise?'  


'Exactly,' Linus said, forcing himself to stay calm.  


There was another moment of silence, which seemed to stretch into infinity. And then the room erupted.  


'I want that tiny guitar!'  


'Dibs on the tube!'  


_'Screech!'_  


'Whoa, whoa, hey!' Linus quickly stepped in front of the chest, confusing everyone and breaking the wave of the noise. 'Don't pick by how the instrument looks - take a while and listen to a couple of them. Find the sound that feels right to you.'  


It worked; the level of excitement in the room was still high, as was the volume of sound, but the children actually did take care to try out the instruments before picking. It took almost an hour, which was much more than Linus expected, but finally everyone seemed satisfied with their choice. To Linus' surprise, Theodore picked the ukulele and not the shiny glockenspiel, which went to Chauncey. Sal picked the Pan flute, which was just what Linus expected, and there was no surprise either with Lucy taking the trumpet. But Arthur's choice was quite surprising - and symbolic, should Linus want to dwell on it, which he didn't. It was a small drum, patched in several places, which took Linus ages to repair. He wondered briefly if Arthur was able to recognize that, but a glance at the clock brought him back to reality. They spent the remainder of the lesson decorating the instruments and ended up covered with paint, glitter and scraps of paper, but utterly happy.   


'We have two things to do now, before we wrap up for today,' Linus announced when the clock chimed quarter to three. 'First: I want you to think about everything that is difficult for you right now. Everything that makes you feel angry or frustrated, or scared, or sad... Got them?' There was a series of nods across the room. 'Right. Now pick your instrument and make enough noise to chase these thoughts away. Three - two - one - _go!'_  


The sheer volume of the sound made him sit down and close his eyes. He knew that children were good at making noise, but these children - they excelled at it. The banging and strumming, wailing and thumping, tooting and clinking went on full force for a couple of minutes and died down slowly. Linus looked around the room and saw that the tension in Sal's shoulders has lessened, the unhappy turn of Talia's mouth changed into a smile, and the wild grin that appeared on Lucy's face as he looked down at the trumpet in his hands. It may have caused Linus a severe case of ear ringing and migraine, but it was worth it.  


'Oh my,' he said, wincing at his own voice. 'That was some extraordinary noise. Top-notch, I'm sure. And now, the second task - only for those of you who want it. You can take your instrument with you and practice making sounds with it, so that you can get it to speak for you. Not only about the difficult things, but about anything. And next time we'll have the lesson on Expressing Yourself...' He trailed away and shot a glance at Arthur, whose face was very carefully neutral. He looked up at Linus and nodded; Linus sighed with relief and continued. 'So, next time we have the lesson, you can use the instrument instead of talking.'  


To his surprise, all children took their instruments with them as they left the classroom. They managed to put the chairs and desks in their regular places before that, and remove the majority of paint and glitter from the floor. As they walked away chatting excitedly and making the odd sounds, Linus crouched on the floor and wiped the more persistent stains with the wet wipes, pilfered from the kitchen along with the wooden spoons. Which, to think of it, he didn't see anywhere in the classroom or in the boxes - now Zoe would definitely yell at him and rightly so.  


'I've said it before and now I must say it again - my dear man, you're so full of surprises," Arthur said somewhere above him. Linus jolted upright, hit his head at the edge of Talia's desk, and scrambled up with no dignity. 'When you said _arts and crafts_ , I expected many things, but not this.'  


'I should have consulted with you first.' Linus rubbed the bump on his head and then snatched his hand away as he realized that he's getting glitter into his hair. 'And ask before I took the instruments. And-'  


'Absolutely not.' Arthur brushed the glitter out of Linus hair and from his cheek. He didn't take his fingers away after, resting them gently close to Linus' mouth. 'It's your house too, and the children are under your care as much as under mine.'  


'Now surely you must be mistaken, I'm just...' he trailed off, unsure what to say. Words really weren't his strong suit, not in situations like this one, when each of them seemed too small and awkward to express what he felt. 'I couldn't possibly be what you are to them. You are their father, Arthur, in all ways that matter.'  


'What does it make you, then?'  


There was a challenge in Arthur's voice, but mostly he looked sad - disappointed even. Linus felt his insides twist into a painful knot.  


'I don't know,' he admitted and averted his eyes, unable to meet Arthur's gaze. 'I am more than certain that I want to stay here with them for as long as I live, and make sure that they're safe and loved, and the happiest children they can be, I want to watch them grow into brilliant adults, but... Besides the love I don't have anything to offer them. I know, you say it's enough-'  


'It is,' Arthur interrupted quietly.   


'Maybe so.' He shrugged, balling his fists until his knuckles whitened and his nails left dents in the heel of his hand. With his eyes closed he took a couple of breaths, trying to muffle the voices from his head. 'But I still don't know what it makes me.'  


'A father, and dare I say, a good one,' Arthur said simply. Linus looked up a warm hand was placed on his shoulder. The disappointment in Arthur's eyes disappeared, but the sadness remained etched in the thin lines around his mouth. Linus wanted to kiss them until they smoothen away, but he didn't move. 'How come that you never see yourself for what you are?'  


'But I do,' Linus protested before he could stop himself. It felt as if the voices in his head took over the command over his tongue. 'It's you who insists on something that isn't there. Just look at me, Arthur!' He gestured at himself with his glitter-stained hand. Glitter and paint smudges were on his slacks and his cuffs too, and he was sticky from sweat, because he was stressing over his impromptu lesson. His breath was coming in short huffs and he didn't need a mirror to know for sure that there are red spots on his face and throat. 'Look at me and tell me that-'  


At this moment his brain caught up with his mouth and Linus bit his tongue. Alas, too late. A flurry of emotions ran through Arthur's face, each worse that the last. Before he could say anything, Linus shook his head and forced a smile, trying to salvage what he could.  


'No, no, please don't worry - I'm not saying I'm a bad person or an idiot or anything like that.' Well, he did sometimes, but Arthur didn't need to hear about it now, or ever. 'It's just - it's just like in chess, you know? You have pawns and you have rooks, and they both move in the same direction, and both have a meaning in the game. But you wouldn't mistake one for the other, would you? If you look at a pawn and see a rook, then - then you're going to be disappointed, Arthur, and you're going to lose the match.'  


He inhaled shakily, painfully, and forced himself to unclench his hands. Unwilling to risk a glance at Arthur's face he looked somewhere between his shoulder and his sternum, blinking a couple of times to get the blurriness out of his eyes.   


'I wouldn't mistake them, no,' Arthur whispered finally, rubbing his free hand against his eyes. He still held Linus' shoulder firmly.   


He didn't say anything else for a while, and with each passing second Linus felt the urge to run growing within him. There was a vast supply of hiding places on the Marsyas Island, and he could go there, squeeze himself into some nook and just - not be his disappointing self, for a moment.  


'You said you loved me,' Arthur said, his voice barely audible. Linus' heart skipped a beat and then forgot how to operate. 'At the bonfire you told me you loved me and that you'd do anything. '  


'I did. I do. Oh Arthur, I-'  


'Then I need you to do something for me. I need you to trust me.' He grabbed Linus' other shoulder and there was not much else to do but to look up at him. In Arthur's pale face his eyes looked like two holes burned through a sheet. 'I need you to trust me more than you do these vile people in your head, when I say you're enough and then some. Can you do that for me?'  


'Yes,' Linus said, though he wasn't sure. 'That is - I'll try. I'll do my best.'  


'Good. That's enough.'  


Linus let himself be embraced and held close, listening to Arthur's heartbeat. And true to his word, he didn't protest. It was almost like trust, right?

* * *

The chess metaphor didn't come to Linus out of nowhere. He found the board in Arthur's study and brought downstairs during one of the first rainy days in an attempt to lift the mood. Initially the children expressed a lot of enthusiasm - especially Chauncey, who decided that bishops were running everywhere and helping just like bellhops did - but it wore down quickly when it came to actual playing. After a couple of days only Sal and Phee were determined enough to come back to the chessboard. Linus coached them a bit and played training matches with them, letting them figure out their strategies without pulling his punches too obviously. Phee caught him on letting her win once - outside of the agreed handicap - and wasn't afraid to speak her mind about that. But next evening she waited for him at the chessboard to replay the last couple of moves, _just without cheating this time_ , she warned as she tossed back her hair.  


It didn't take Linus' sharpened observation skills to notice that this - spending time together - was something that happened more and more frequently now, as the days grew shorter and gloomier. Lucy, still enamored with his trumpet, invited Linus to his room almost every day to present his newest compositions - which sounded mostly like announcement of the end of days. One of his pieces, aptly titled _From the bottomless pit the hellfire comes_ , was presented during the last Expressing Yourself to a round of resounding applause. Theodore asked Linus questions about colors and shimmers which confused Linus to no end, since apparently Theodore's vision operated on a different chromatic scale than his own. It made Linus brush up his rusty, high school level knowledge of optics so he could advise Theodore better on rearranging his growing earrings collection. The topic of arranging and rearranging came up with Chauncey as well, ever since Linus mentioned that he had devised his own way of folding laundry back at the 86 Hermes Way. It resulted in many hours spent in the laundry room, along with Chauncey shining with happiness like a healthy Granny Smith apple. Other evenings he spent in the shed, roped into weaving straw covers for Talia's most delicate plants, and much to her surprise they actually came out very well.  


'You're quite good at this,' she said, admiring their sturdiness. 'Looks like the hours spent moping over that flower crown paid off, eh?'  


'Thank you,' Linus said with a smile, even though it took him a moment to respond. Not dismissing her compliment was an almost physical effort. 'Want me to show you how I do it?'  


She did, and so he demonstrated some of the basket weaving tricks he picked up as a scout ages ago. In turn Talia taught him a couple of phrases in Gnomish which all roughly translated back to _Working in my garden brings me joy_ , though she insisted that there were nuances he couldn't comprehend just yet.  


'Right now we're not _in_ the garden, but we're working in the garden, see?'  


Linus didn't, but he still repeated the phrases to himself before going to bed.  


Whether or not all of this meant that Arthur was right about him being a father, he couldn't say. It wasn't a topic he had much experience in, after all. But it didn't stop him from enjoying these moments, and now he actually felt excited and proud like he imagined a father would, because Sal and Phee were about to play their first chess match against each other. Equipped with a notebook and a pencil, he was tasked with counting the uses of "take-backsies" handicap and requests for his advice. He scribbled some marks, but to be fair, he was much more engaged in watching the game and providing running commentary for Chauncey who joined him right after the opening.  


At the beginning the game was rather slow, with Sal and Phee glaring at each other and at the board with great concentration. But soon it escalated into decimation of the pieces based on chance more than strategy - quick and without mercy.   


'Oh no, the horse attacked the bellhop!' Chauncey gasped and covered his eyes with his tentacle. 'It got thrown out of the board, that's just _cruel!'_  


'Don't worry, my dear boy, the bell - erm, that is, the bishop is just fine. Resting before the next match.'  


'And now that tower just crushed the horse!' Chauncey moaned as the black knight was pushed off of the chessboard. 'How can you do that?!'  


'Shhh, I'm winning here!' Phee admonished, placing the knight in a neat row of her claimed pieces. It included both knights, a rook, a bishop, and eight pawns.  


'No, you're not.' Sal, who had been very quiet so far, moved his remaining bishop across the board. 'Check.'  


Chauncey and Phee both gasped at the same time, and then there was silence, broken only by the flutter of Phee's wings as she rose from her seat to watch the board from above. She didn't say anything, but Linus saw that she was aware of what just happened.  


'That's... that's a checkmate,' she said and dropped back into her chair. She looked at the board and at her row of claimed pieces in disbelief, and for a moment it seemed that she'd get upset. But before Linus said anything, Phee flew up from her chair again and looked at Sal with fire in her eyes. 'Show me how you did that.'  


'I don't know, I just did,' Sal said with a shrug, automatically folding into himself. 'You left this side empty and I just moved the bishop.'  


'Actually, let's analyze what happened here, okay? It was a very good game - great job you both, and congratulations Sal for winning.' Linus slid off of the couch, squeezing Chauncey's tentacle to make sure he's okay. Then he brought another chair to the chessboard. 'Now, I must say I really liked the opening...'  


And so it went, until they were practically dragged into the kitchen for supper by a very exasperated Arthur.  


After they put the children to bed, Linus made sure to spend extra time with Chauncey to ensure that the chess game didn't affect him too much. Having solemnly sworn that it wasn't meant to represent reality, he followed up with assurance that no horses threatened any bellhops, but rather that they were rather good friends in the old times of horse carriages. With the help of this made-up story he managed to put Chauncey to sleep, but it was later than usual when he went down to the living room where he usually spent the evening with Arthur.  


Much to his surprise, the living room was dark and empty even though he was certain he'd heard Arthur going downstairs a good while ago. Then he heard a faint sound of music coming from the kitchen: Nat King Cole promising that when he'd fall in love it'd be forever. With a smile growing on his face, Linus pushed the swing door and saw Arthur stirring something in a pot with a wooden spoon, whispering the lyrics like some sort of a spell. The entire kitchen was filled with the smell of cinnamon, cloves, nutmeg, and warm sugar.  


'What are we celebrating?' he asked, coming over to the stove and, after just a couple of seconds of internal debate, gave Arthur a quick peck on the cheek. Arthur hummed appreciatively, so he repeated the procedure. 'Here, let me help,' he added, bringing the cups next to the stove.  


'You being here.'   


Arthur poured the mulled wine to the cups and placed them on the table. It had been scrubbed clean after the supper, and there was a single aster in a glass bottle sitting on it. It made Linus' heart tug a little - it was one of the last ones in the garden, he knew.  


'But hasn't even been full two months,' he protested, but sat down nevertheless. 'Just a couple of weeks.'  


'Doesn't mean I can't be happy about it, and about all the weeks to come.' Arthur's eyes crinkled with joy as he rose his cup in a toast. 'Be happy with me, my dearest Linus.'  


Linus clinked his cup against Arthur's and let both the words and the mulled wine warm him from the inside. It was overwhelming to feel wanted like this; he didn't think he'd ever get used to that. He tried to put this thought into words, turning it in his head slowly.  


'I _am_ happy,' he said eventually, raising his gaze from the wine to Arthur's eyes. They were just as sweet and warm. 'I never thought it was possible for me to - to belong somewhere, like I do here, with the children and with you.'  


'That's excellent,' Arthur said with a grin that made him look a bit impish, like a fairy planning a trick. He reached across the table, grabbed Linus' hand, and kissed the pads of his fingers. 'But I certainly want to provide you with more reasons to stay.'  


Linus swallowed and closed his eyes, enjoying the sensation. He was wanted - Arthur said this openly, and Linus promised to trust him - and he did want Arthur back. Maybe, if he managed to quieten the voices in his head with a little more of the mulled wine, it could be as simple as that.  


'Interesting,' he muttered, opening his eyes. Arthur smiled around his forefinger and gently bit the finger pad, sending a jolt of sparks across Linus' neural system. 'What do you have in mind?' he managed.  


'Oh, well, you're so lovely to ask, my dear. I'd start with-'  


'Ugh! My eyes!' Lucy yelled from the door, covering his face with a dramatic gesture. 'Eternal darkness, claim my sight! How can you do that to me? I'd prefer to be devoured by undead beasts from the wasteland of nightmares!'  


'And I'd prefer you to be in bed,' Arthur said, not letting go of Linus' hand. It was a wise move; Linus might crumble to dust otherwise. 'Why are you up, is something amiss?'  


'Nothing was amiss until I descended into this valley of the shadow and death. I just wanted some milk,' Lucy added with a shrug, as he took the bottle from the fridge and poured himself a glass. 'And now this vision will crawl under my eyelids for all eternity. Adults are just so _gross!_ Good night!'  


'Night night,' Arthur said, looking after him as he disappeared behind the swing door. Then he looked back at Linus, made a weird face, coughed, and started to laugh.   


Now Linus was sure that he'd not only crumble to dust, but also combust and evaporate afterwards. The looks Arthur kept shooting at him in between the giggles didn't help the situation.  


'My dearest, sweetest man, if you could only see your face!'  


'I am familiar with its general layout, thank you,' Linus huffed, which only made Arthur snicker more.   


'You know, it's bound to happen, and with some regularity too, I'm afraid,' Arthur said, finally calming down. 'There are six extraordinary children in this house, and they will always come in in the worst possible moment.' He winked, and Linus felt a rush of trepidation as he thought of Lucy's room, which was essentially a closet in Arthur's bedroom. 'But you are aware that they're all supportive, right? That they're happy not only for you to be there, but for us to be together?'  


'I know,' he said, and it was true. The aster on the table was a visible sign of that. 'It's just - I've never been in this position before, I've never been in a relationship that other people knew about.' He shrugged like it didn't matter, and looked at his now empty cup. 'I'm not embarrassed or ashamed, I'm just - confused, I guess, as to what's expected and, and appropriate.'  


'I honestly don't think you could be inappropriate if you tried, my dear.'  


Linus looked up to see Arthur smiling, the playful grin from before back on his face. Maybe it's just that simple, he thought again. Maybe he could just - be there, with Arthur, and nothing more.  


'Is that so? Well, Mr Parnassus, next time when fancy strikes, I shall just drag you by your lapels and snog you relentlessly, no matter if we have a roomful of children watching. How's that for inappropriate?'  


'Well well, Mr Baker.' Arthur leaned back in his chair, his smile growing and his eyes glinting. 'That would very much depend on the quality of the snog in question. You see, some of them are more - oh.'  


Linus wasn't sure when he stood up and went to the other side of the table; he made a point of not thinking. He just placed his hand on the back of Arthur's neck, tilted his head up, and kissed him.  


They've shared hot, urgent kisses before, but this one escalated quickly into something downright filthy. Linus licked his way into Arthur's mouth and claimed it inch by inch with his lips and teeth and tongue. Then he grabbed his hair and tilted his head even higher. Arthur made a helpless low sound at the back of his throat and reached up to pull Linus closer, closer, until he all but fell into Arthur's lap. The chair creaked, and Linus bumped his back on the edge of the table, but it didn't matter. All that mattered was Arthur's hands grabbing wildly at his shoulders, the wet sweetness of his mouth, and the gasping noises he made, more and more urgent every passing second. Their bodies were pressed together closely enough for Linus to feel the wild beat of Arthur's heart and the growing pressure of his erection against his hip. The air seemed to crackle with heat around them, and when Linus opened his eyes, he saw wisps of flame dancing around Arthur's head and arms.  


'Oh dear,' Linus whispered, swallowing hard. 'That's extraordinary.'  


'Certainly,' Arthur huffed, panting as if he'd just resurfaced after a dive. He looked like a combination of every lustful thought Linus had after their conversation at the bonfire. 'And quite... inappropriate indeed. Very much expected though.'  


'Yes, but I mean - the fire.'  


Within a heartbeat everything changed. Arthur recoiled as if he'd been hit, and the hazy happiness in his eyes turned into something close to fear. The next moment he schooled his face into a more neutral smile, which to Linus felt like a punch to the gut. The flames went out as if they'd never been there.  


'Arthur, what's-'  


'Now, I must say you've took our celebration to a whole new level, my dear man,' Arthur said and squirmed a bit in his chair, trying to put some distance between them. Linus stood up, hitting his kidney once again, but didn't let go of Arthur's hands. 'Next time I'll have to-'  


'Please, talk to me,' Linus interrupted, pleading. 'Tell me what I did wrong. I'm sorry, I should have asked, I should-'  


'Oh my dear, sweet man, you did nothing wrong.' Arthur stood up and kissed Linus gently. His face was calm and composed, but there was sadness around his eyes which Linus never saw there before. 'It's just - I must, that is...' he trailed away, looking helplessly at the window behind Linus' back.   


As if on cue, a lightning struck somewhere close, immediately followed by a thunder. It was raining more and more intensely since supper, Linus thought, and the storm probably was going on for a while. He just wasn't paying attention.  


'I must go check on Sal,' Arthur said, relief audible in his voice. He kissed Linus again, a quick peck, and crossed the kitchen in three strides. 'He's afraid of storms,' he added over his shoulder. 'Good night, my dearest Linus.'  


And with this he fled the kitchen, without looking back again.

* * *  


'Did you curse the radio?'  


Linus looked up from where he was shelling the walnuts. Though Zoe had to wake up very early and endure Merle's grumbling to go to the town today morning, she was more chirpy that she'd been in days. Even the terrible, freezing drizzle didn't dampen her cheerfulness. On the contrary, she whistled and danced a bit across the kitchen, as she went into a baking spree and dragged Linus from his hiding spot in the guesthouse to chop and peel and shell and core.   


'Huh? What do you mean?' he asked, focusing on the music. Dionne Warwick crooned sadly how a house was not a home when the two lovers were apart, and Linus felt his heart tug unpleasantly.  


'It's playing one sullen song after the other. A right fit for your mood today, certainly.'  


'I'm sure I don't know what you mean,' he said and shot her a practiced smile he'd often used back in the DICOMY office. 'I'm perfectly fine, and quite eager to see how you make these pies. I know Arthur likes them very much.'  


'Uh-huh,' she drawled, shaking her head. 'Did you two fight or something? You both act like robots today.'  


'We didn't fight,' Linus protested, looking away from her and at his pile of walnuts. 'We're okay.'  


'Yeah, and that is precisely why you slump here in my kitchen like a kicked puppy and Arthur wrings his fingers and avoids even the most neutral conversation.' With a thump that seemed louder than necessary Zoe placed the dough at the table and started to knead it with passion. 'If you don't want to talk to me, then don't - but I hoped you'd be the more sensible one.'  


Linus considered that for a while, cracking the walnuts and then chopping them into fine pieces. The crushing sound made him feel better, but only just.  


'We didn't fight,' he repeated, 'or at least I don't think we did. We did, erm, we did kiss though, and things went a bit...' He trailed away, feeling his cheeks grow hot. 'Anyway, suddenly there was fire surrounding him and I said it's here, and he just - ran away and now pretends nothing happened, and I don't know what I did wrong.'   


'Well, that's - shit,' Zoe muttered, giving the dough one last thump and reaching for the rolling pin. 'That's serious. What did you say exactly?'  


'That it's extraordinary,' Linus managed through a tightened throat. Zoe chuckled and shook her head. 'What? Tell me, what did I do? He just left and won't talk to me about this, and-'  


'Men,' sighed Zoe as she looked wistfully at the rolling pin, 'are so useless. There are days when I want to climb on the rooftop and yell _Just talk to each other!_ to the wide world, but I don't think even that would help.'  


'Zoe!'  


'Okay, look - you should really talk to Arthur about this, but I know it's not easy right now, so I'll just let you know some context, all right? Now, how do I start...' She paused for a while, motioning at Linus to pass her the chopped walnuts. She added it to the pan with the apple and cranberry pie filling and stirred quickly; a lovely smell wafted towards Linus and made his mouth water. 'I don't know much, mind you - Arthur isn't great at sharing, and most of what he told me was... Well, he was drunk out of his wits back then, so it was probably more personal than he intended and I don't want to break his trust. But the gist of it is that he barely had any good experience being himself. Especially in a relationship.'  


'Being himself?' Linus repeated, confused. 'You mean - being a phoenix? But that's just who he is!'  


'Yeah, well - here, have a taste, isn't it too sour?' It wasn't, and Linus hummed his appreciation around the hot apples in his mouth. 'Okay, good. Yes, obviously that's who he is, but he was either punished for it, rejected for it, or treated as a weird fetish for it, all in relationships which he thought were safe. He became an expert at hiding himself, so when his cover slips, he just panics.'  


For the long while they didn't say anything more, apart from Zoe giving instructions on forming crust and covering the pie. Linus didn't do a great job with it, because his hands were shaking. He thought of all the small signs that he saw but didn't react, how Arthur got upset about the candles in the guesthouse or how he was always in control of any situation, any interaction that happened between them. Arthur's grip never slipped - until it did.  


'I really need to talk to him,' Linus sighed and put the kettle on. 'The usual?' he asked, reaching for the can with chamomile flowers.  


'Yes please. And make yourself some lemon balm when you're at it. You're going to need it.'  


Still a little dazed, Linus made the infusions and placed them on the table. On the one hand he wanted to press Zoe for more details, afraid that anything he would say to Arthur would hurt him, regardless of intentions. On the other hand though, he didn't want to learn all this by proxy. He needed to hear the story in Arthur's voice; the only problem now was how to convince Arthur to tell it.  


Suddenly yelling and giggles filled the air. The afternoon lesson ended and the kids raided the kitchen and emptied it of all apples, nuts, and cranberries left after Zoe's baking spree. Today's topic was stereometry and before Linus could blink, he got roped into building cubes and prisms out of colourful cardboard. Amongst the commotion he almost missed Sal, quietly hanging in the corner and waiting for his turn to get Linus' attention.  


'What is it, my dear boy? Do you want to build something together? Worry not, even if it's a sphere, we can give it a try!'  


'That's not it,' Sal muttered, walking over so he could be heard over the excited voices. 'I just wondered if - if you could take a look at something I wrote.'  


'Oh, I - I'd be honored,' Linus said, smiling warmly. He could feel the knot that he carried in his belly since yesterday loosen a little. 'Do you want to tell me a bit more about your piece?'  


'It's just a short story.' Sal rubbed his neck, but then he gave Linus a small smile. 'It's about Theodore in the vintage shop, the one you suggested. I'll just give it one final read and bring it to you later, okay?'  


'Excellent. Thank you, Sal, I can't wait to read it,' he said, and meant it. Something to look forward to, in this gloomy, stressful day.  


Sal ducked his head to hide his own excitement. Linus looked after him as he went to retrieve the apples and walnuts Theodore saved for him. Only then he noticed Arthur leaning against the doorway and watching him in turn. He was smiling, but the sadness around his eyes from yesterday was still there. The combination made Linus' insides twist painfully again, the brief reprieve granted by Sal's request all but forgotten.  


'Are we getting three pies today?' Arthur asked, as he let Sal and Talia through the door. He held an envelope, and Linus could see the Marsyas Town Council logo in the corner.  


'You are getting just a single piece, you pie fiend,' Zoe grumbled, closing the oven and setting the timer. 'Two pies stay here, and I'm taking the third one to the town tomorrow.'  


'So that's how it is then,' Arthur drawled with a smile, rising one eyebrow.   


Zoe lifted her chin in defiance, but she was smiling too. Linus looked between them with no idea what was going on here. It was as if he'd missed a great reveal type of an episode in a TV series, and nothing he knew made sense anymore.   


'Well then, would you take a letter to the town council along with the pie, please?'  


'Sure.' Zoe shrugged and eyed the envelope. 'Something important?'  


'They just want me to join the next meeting to _discuss the situation_.' The air quotes around the last phrase were clearly audible. 'It's okay, I'll manage.'  


'Wait,' Linus said, suddenly thrown back. Drawing a blank at Arthur and Zoe's inside joke about pies was one thing, but whatever it was in the envelope seemed serious. 'What situation they want to discuss with you?'  


'The situation,' Arthur repeated, waving at the hall behind him. He smiled, but it was strained. 'Now, as the truth about the orphanage and its residents is out in the open, I can imagine it changes a lot in the policies of the town, and especially its finances.'  


'Well, naturally,' Linus agreed, feeling his face morph into a smile-like grimace similar to Arthur's. 'But what does it have to do with you?'  


'I've been asked to join the town council meeting...'  


'Yes, you've said.' Linus exhaled through his nose and forced his voice to stay calm. He could feel the fake smile drop, but it didn't matter - not like it was convincing, anyway. 'It doesn't answer my question though.'  


'Uh-oh,' Zoe said, standing up. Linus flinched, surprised. How he managed to forget that she was here, he had no idea. 'No fighting in the kitchen.'  


'We're not-' Arthur tried to protest, but Zoe was relentless.  


'Couples fighting make the pies go slack. Take this elsewhere.'  


Without arguing any further, Arthur shrugged and left the kitchen, letter still firmly in hand. Linus huffed and followed him, grabbing his arm before Arthur ascended the stairs.  


'Talk to me.' It sounded harsher that he intended, but it made Arthur stop and look at him directly, at least. 'Please. I can't do anything if I don't know what's going on.'  


'Nothing that should worry you, my dear man. I promise.' Arthur sighed and gave him a lopsided smile which made the lines around his mouth even more prominent. 'I have it sorted.'  


'If it's about you or the children, then of course it should worry me.'  


'I have it under control.' Arthur's hand gripped the banister so tightly that his knuckles went white. 'And I'm going to sort it out. They only want to talk to me and no one else needs to suffer through this.'  


And suddenly it made sense. Their conversation in the basement came back to Linus in a rush, Arthur telling him in quiet voice that he was okay with being mistreated because he could shield others this way. He didn't know any other way even now, Linus realised and felt the nausea hitting him like a freight train. He'd always been alone.  


'I am not a child to be protected,' he managed through a tightened throat. It came out hissing, furious, _wrong._ He wasn't mad at Arthur, not really - only at the people that had done it to him - but they weren't here to hear him. 'Just - talk to me,' he pleaded, but the anger in his voice wasn't gone.   


'I can handle it,' Arthur repeated forcefully. His hand clenched on the bannister started to shake. 'The last thing I want is to become a burden to you.'  


'You - none of you could ever - _ever_ \- become a burden to me.'  


The cold rage which poured out of his words surprised him; he didn't remember ever speaking that way. He swallowed hard, looking at Arthur's greyed face. He wanted to say something, to apologize, to smooth things over - he wanted it so much that staying silent made him feel sick - but he kept quiet. Whatever else was there, he told the truth and it had to sink in, in both of them.  


The silence felt deafening; Linus heard his own heartbeat thumping erratically in his ears. After what felt like an eternity, Arthur inhaled and looked down at his clenched hands and the crumpled envelope in them.  


'I just want to protect you,' he said, his voice hollow. 'Is it so surprising?'  


'Not at all.' Linus stepped closer and reached towards Arthur's hands, but Arthur recoiled minutely, and then steeled himself. 'But I'm not a child, Arthur,' he said, finally sounding more like himself. 'If I am to be their - their father, or your partner, then I need you to treat me like one.' He took one more step and placed his hand next to Arthur's, with just an inch separating them. 'Let's talk...' he started, but then he heard a shuffle above his head.   


They both looked up to see Sal, clutching a stack of papers close to his chest and peering at them nervously.  


'Come find me when you're ready to talk,' Linus added gently, and squeezed by Arthur to climb up the stairs. 'I'm coming, my dear boy. I can't wait to read your piece!'

* * *

Over the next couple of days Linus came to regret his turn of phrase, as it seemed that Arthur never would be ready to talk. Oh, it wasn't like they weren't speaking with each other. After their altercation at the stairs their conversations went back to not exactly normal, but a fairly decent imitation. There were smiles and pleasant voices and little jokes, but they weren't really talking. Arthur was unfailingly kind and proper - so much that it reminded Linus of himself when he first arrived here, and made him squirm - but the apprehension didn't leave his eyes. He looked as if he waited for Linus to start demanding explanations from him again at any moment, and it took all of Linus' willpower to stop himself from apologizing and retracting all he said. But it was the truth, and it had to sink in, even if it made Linus wear his hardwood floor in the guest house thin with worry.   


Arthur would talk to him when he felt ready, Linus repeated himself. He owed him to wait.  


There was enough in Marsyas House to keep him busy during the day. In the mornings he spent most of the time in the kitchen, mostly chopping fruits and vegetables, and listened to Zoe thinking out loud about various, not really connected topics which included pie recipes, movie theaters and snacks served there, using leaf litter gathered in the forest as a soil fertilizer, and the like. Luckily she didn't ask about Arthur, even though Linus didn't think that she was fooled by their pleasant politeness even for a second. He wondered if Arthur talked to her, and if so - what did he tell her - but he didn't ask. If Zoe thought he would hurt Arthur, she'd just remove him from her island, of that Linus was certain. It made him a bit more sure about his waiting too.  


His afternoons were even busier, with all the chess matches to supervise, gardening tools to clean, and buttons to polish. Chauncey kept coming back to watch Sal and Phee's more and more advanced chess matches, but was too engaged in the welfare of the individual pieces to actually learn. Linus taught him and Lucy checkers instead - the pieces held much less potential for drama and didn't prompt Lucy to turn them into real warriors. He tried to teach Theodore too, but the wyvern got banned from the board after several attempts of stealing the pieces into his collection. It wasn't the only source of emotion around the checkers matches; Lucy moved his pieces across the board by telekinesis, encouraging them with fiery speeches, and Chauncey celebrated his first victory with a wiggly dance of joy heretofore unknown in the Marsyas House.   


There were quieter moments too, when he helped Talia catalogue her bulbs and seeds, getting them ready for spring, and when he sat with Sal and helped him revise the vintage store story.   


Linus loved it from the very first sentence to the last. It was short, witty, and observant, showing the comical side of the events and characters without mocking anyone. Linus liked it enough to suggest that it should be revised and sent to one of the teen magazines popular in the city. The idea of having his work published scared Sal for a moment - not enough to turn him into a Pomeranian, but it was a close call. But after a couple of days he approached Linus and asked for his help with revisions, face set into a determined frown.  


'If you say it's a good story, then I trust you,' he muttered to his toes. 'I know that Theodore will be excited to have his collection mentioned in a magazine, so - yeah, let's give it a try.'  


'That's a very brave decision,' Linus said and he couldn't contain a proud smile. 'And I'm more than happy to help you make it happen. I just wonder... Well, that is to say...' He cleared his throat and glanced at the window. He wanted to stare at his toes too, but he owed it to Sal to act like a mature adult for once. 'You know, my boy, that I'm not an expert when it comes to the written word. Maybe we should ask Arthur to help you revise instead? What do you think?'  


Sal didn't respond for a long while, chewing his lip and glancing at Linus from under his frown. Linus wanted to kick himself for making the boy doubt himself - it didn't take much to send Sal into a spiral of self-deprecating thoughts - when suddenly Sal raised his head and looked him straight into the eye.  


'You won't leave this time, will you?'  


'What?' Linus managed, his knees suddenly going weak. 'No, Sal, of course not. I promised you all that I'd stay, didn't I?'  


'Yes,' Sal muttered reluctantly, 'but you weren't mad at Arthur then, and now you are. And I know,' he stressed, not allowing Linus to protest, 'I know how it works. I'm not like the other kids, some of my placements were with families, and I've seen it. The adults fight, then they stop talking to each other, and then everything crumbles and someone has to leave.'  


'Nothing is going to crumble, Sal, I swear to you.' Linus reached and grabbed his hand, gently but firmly, as if the gesture could fill them both with certainty. 'And we're not mad at each other, Arthur and I - it's just new for us, being together and working things through together. But we'll learn, I promise you, we will.'  


He wondered for a moment if it was the right thing to spill his guts to a fourteen years old boy, but Sal watched him for a moment longer and then shook his head and nodded to himself.  


'Okay, I trust you. But I want you to revise the story first. I know you're careful with details.'  


There was enough determination in his voice for Linus to recognize the request for what it was - an attempt to solidify his promise by giving him a reason to stay. He didn't comment on that though, and instead vowed to himself to bring the matter up with Arthur immediately. If Sal was able to pick up on their untypical behaviour, the other children would too if they hadn't already. The time that he and Arthur had to talk things through turned out to be more limited than he expected.  


Somehow though he didn't manage to bring it up that evening and the next. Now, as they sat together going through the second revision, Sal kept shooting him nervous glances, nodding along to Linus' praises for the changes in the story.   


'I think it's ready for the second pair of eyes,' Linus said as he closed his pen - with green ink, for extra cheerfulness - and put the papers neatly on the desk. 'Do you want me to talk to Arthur about it?'  


'Yes,' Sal whispered, relief clear in his voice and in his smile. 'Please do.'

* * *

With his resolve renewed, Linus decided to catch Arthur after dinner in the living room, no matter the circumstances. It will be just like before the entire debacle with the letter, he told himself - they just needed to sit on the sofa and talk. But it seemed that he was out of luck. Just like over the last days, Arthur excused himself straight after dinner to finish some philosophical discussion with Talia and Lucy and didn't come back downstairs though it was long past the kids' bedtime. Curled up on the sofa, Linus watched the clock arms moving slowly; he didn't even pretend to read anything, too wound up to think about anything but the impeding conversation. The time passed and he debated between going to Arthur's bedroom uninvited and waiting here with no guaranteed results.   


'I'll wait to half past,' he muttered to himself, tucking his feet up. 'And then I'll go upstairs.'  


And the next thing that he realized was a surprised whisper just above his head.  


'Linus? What are you doing here this late?'  


Arthur was standing over him, his dark silhouette offset by the dimmed light in the corridor. A strong Darjeeling aroma was wafting around him like a smoke around a fire.  


'Uh, I - I was waiting for you,' Linus muttered, sitting up and rubbing his eyes. He squinted at the clock, barely visible in the darkness. It showed quarter past two. 'I really need to talk to you.' He winced at the coldness of the floor as he touched it with his feet - and definitely at how pathetic he must have sounded. 'I mean it can wait till morning, I guess. We can talk tomorrow.'  


'You waited here all this time.' It wasn't a question, but a whisper with a hint of disbelief.   


Linus looked up at him, but since he was also feeling around for his shoes with his feet, he wobbled gracelessly and almost fell down. Arthur put a stabilizing hand on his shoulder, manoeuvring the teapot in his other hand.  


'Yes but - well, it's no matter now.'  


'You can't leave right now,' Arthur said, and when Linus looked at him, he saw his face drawn and closed, just like all these weeks ago in the basement. 'It's a right downpour out there, and-'  


'And?' Linus wobbled again, toeing on his shoe. It sounded sharper than he intended. Arthur's fingers tightened on his arm; the tea sloshed, and the strong smell of Darjeeling made Linus dizzy for a second.  


'I'm sorry,' Arthur whispered, crumpling in front of Linus' eyes like a piece of paper thrown into a fireplace. The teapot barely made it to the side table before he curled up on the couch and hugged his knees. Only then Linus noticed that he was still wearing his day clothes too, rumpled but still ready to work. 'I'm so sorry. Please don't go.'  


'I'm not - Arthur, it's not like that, I'm not going anywhere! Well, I am going to the guesthouse to bed, but-'  


'Please don't go,' Arthur repeated, face hidden in his knees. 'Let's - let's do it, let's talk. I'm sorry I made you wait, let's do it now. If we wait till morning, I'll just freak out again.'  


'Arthur, my dear, you're freaking out right now.' It was Linus' turn to touch Arthur's shoulder and see him shudder, but he didn't withdraw his hand until Arthur looked up at him. 'You need to go to sleep, you're not thinking straight.'  


There was no protest in response, but no movement either. Even in the darkness of the living room Linus could see his eyes, tired and wide and searching.  


'Come on,' he said in his gentlest voice, tugging Arthur up. 'Let's get you upstairs.'  


'I really shouldn't,' Arthur mumbled, but let himself be guided towards the staircase. 'We need to talk, and I have work...'  


'It can wait till morning,' Linus said decisively, steering him upstairs and turning the lights off as he went. He was surprised how similar it felt to shepherding children.  


'But it's about this town council meeting...'  


'Then it definitely can wait even a couple of days. Here you are, my dear,' he whispered as they stopped in front of Arthur's bedroom door. 'I'll see you first thing in the morning.'  


'Please don't go,' Arthur repeated again and turned to Linus. In the faint glow of nightlights his eyes were wide and full of emotions Linus couldn't even start naming. 'Can you - would you - stay with me?'  


_No,_ was Linus' instinctive answer, _I can't, not now, not like this. I'm not ready, I'm rumpled and stressed out, and I don't know what you need from me. I can't._  


But he heard the plight in Arthur's voice and he could only nod.  


In the circle of yellow light cast by the desk lamp Linus could see papers strewn everywhere and a couple of empty mugs. It wasn't like Arthur, who was chaotic but never messy. He must have seen Linus' gaze, because he made a helpless gesture towards the desk, but he didn't move.  


'You're freaking out,' Linus said quietly, his voice much calmer than it was warranted by his state of mind. He went to the desk and turned off the lamp. Suddenly the room felt smaller and safer, wrapped up in the sound of rainfall like in cotton wool. 'And you needn't worry. Come on, let's go to sleep.'  


The silence stretched between them, broken only by the patter of rain and the thumps of Linus' heartbeat. For the longest moment none of them moved; only the faraway sound of thunder jolted Linus into action. He pulled his sweater over his head and hung it over the nearby chair, and made a quick work of his shirt and slacks. He could hear Arthur doing the same, but he didn't look up. The tension between them shielded them way better than darkness did.  


'Are you sure about this?' Linus touched the floor with his bare foot and shivered, inhaling sharply. In lieu of an answer Arthur went into the bed, moved to the wall and pulled the covers open.  


'I just want to be sure that you're here,' he said in a small voice.   


With his heart beating high in his throat, Linus crawled under the covers next to him and let out a breath he didn't know he was holding. His undershirt rode up uncomfortably in the process, but he didn't dare move to fix it. He lied there, eyes glued to the ceiling, and tried to calm his breath - and he almost fell off the bed when he felt Arthur's warm hand grabbing his freezing one under the cover.  


'Thank you,' Arthur whispered. 'I'm really sorry-'  


'Shhh, none of that,' Linus interrupted and turned to him. He could barely see anything, but he could take a guess at how Arthur looked like, so he reached out and tugged Arthur close. He heard a little surprised yelp, but after a second of hesitation Arthur hugged him so tight that for a moment it was hard to breathe. 'Look, I don't know what's going on in your head right now, but I'm here, and you're here, and whatever happens, I promise we'll both be here in the morning, okay?' Arthur nodded, not moving his face from Linus' collarbone. 'Okay, good. Good. So for now just - just close your eyes and breathe, and try to sleep. And I'll do the same, and I'll see you in the morning, alright?'  


Arthur muttered something into Linus' collarbone - which Linus felt more than heard - but he didn't let go. Sleeping seemed an impossible task, with Arthur clutching him like a lifeline, his undershirt rolled painfully under the small of his back, and all the emotions circling up in his head. But he didn't move for the fear of disturbing Arthur, and after a while the hold on his shoulder loosened, his own breathing calmed, and before he knew, he startled awake in the room filled with the gray light of dawn.  


'Good morning, my dear Linus,' Arthur whispered, rubbing his eyes. His curls stuck around his head like a halo, and his voice was slightly raspy, and Linus suddenly felt his heart give a happy, painful squeeze that he got to see him like that.   


The next thing he felt was a rush of panic and the need to cover himself - his rolled undershirt, puffy face, bleary eyes, his morning breath and disheveled hair. But he saw the warmth in Arthur eyes and made himself still his hands.  


'Good morning,' he said, trying to sit up and inconspicuously straighten the damned undershirt, with limited success. 'How are you feeling?'  


'You stayed,' Arthur said reverently, as if it was an answer enough. He looked quite well rested though, so Linus let it slide. 'Even despite all this you stayed.'  


'I will stay here for as long as you want me to.' He reached out for Arthur's hand and squeezed it lightly. Arthur squeezed back and sat up, nudging Linus' leg with his knee as he did so. 'But I need-'  


'No, let me.' Arthur shook his head, and then stared at the window, tugging his knees up under his chin. His fingers clasped and unclasped in a steady rhythm.   


Linus swallowed and waited, trying and failing not to stare at Arthur's knitted brow and mouth pressed into a thin line. He almost recoiled when Arthur finally spoke, tense like a string in Lucy's bow.   


'I love you,' Arthur said, turning to look at him, his face calm, his voice steady. 'You must never doubt that, Linus. But I - I don't know what to do with this love other than...' He swallowed, squeezing his hands so that his knuckles went chalk white.  


'Other than protecting the ones you care about,' Linus finished, words barely making it through his tightened throat. 'Oh Arthur, I know, and I've never held that against you. But I need to protect you too. I need you to let me.'  


'And then you'll leave.'  


They both froze - Arthur with his hand pressed to his mouth, as if to stop the words he'd just uttered. Linus reached to pull it down but stopped mid movement, seeing Arthur recoil.  


'I'm sorry,' Arthur said, averting his eyes. 'I didn't mean to...'  


'I will stay here for as long as you want me to,' Linus repeated and reached for Arthur's hand again, telegraphing his every move.  


'I know. I know. I don't doubt you, I promise - I love you, and I trust you, and, and - it's just - everyone else left, in the end,' Arthur finished in a small voice, staring at the window again. His throat worked for a moment before he spoke again. 'And I'm not saying you will, I just - between the entire drama with the town council and my - my _outburst_ when we kissed, and heaven only knows what else, I didn't want to burden you, to - to give you any more reason to leave.'  


'I don't have any such reasons so far,' Linus said, and nudged Arthur to look at him. 'And I don't think I'll ever have any, but I know it's hard to believe in the promises for forever. So let me prove it to you.'   


'Prove it?'  


'I promised you that I'd be here in the morning, and I am. It's a proof, right?' Linus straightened up; suddenly he felt the elements fall into place like the pieces of puzzle he did with Talia and Phee a couple of days ago. 'So now I can promise you I'll be there for breakfast, so you get another. And then I'll promise you the afternoon, and then that we'll meet after you review Sal's short story, and then I'll promise you we'll sit down after dinner to work together on this town council nonsense. And if you need me to promise you as well that I'll be there after a heated make-out session, then I - why are you laughing?'  


'Linus, you are the single most wonderful man on Earth,' Arthur said, smiling at him in a way that made Linus lose his train of thought. There was still a hint of sadness in his voice, but Linus could deal with that in time. 'I accept your promise to stay with me until after breakfast then, and I'm waiting for your proof.'  


'Waiting for a proof of love, huh?' Linus muttered under his breath.  


'What was that?'  


'Nothing,' Linus said, and then froze. He could swear he heard a movement behind the closet door. 'Just - I need to go, make myself presentable before the kids wake up.'   


_Or worse_ , he thought, _before Zoe comes in_. It felt deeply unfair to suffer through the walk of shame without actually doing anything to warrant that, but well, here he was. He almost got up and thrown away the cover when he realized that he was in nothing but his rolled undershirt and pants, at least three yards away from the rest of his clothes.   


'Arthur,' he said in a weak voice, but felt himself unable to continue. Words scattered away from his head like a flock of sparrows.  


'I'll close my eyes,' Arthur said gently, with a sigh. Linus wanted to apologize, but just squeezed his hand instead. 'I'll see you at the breakfast, my love.'

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me on Tumblr at little-miss-carrot :-)


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